Ginny Weasley: Supervixen
by thebartender713
Summary: What happens when you cross Ginny Weasley with the death of Harry, unwanted fame, a tyrannic Voldemort, and the betrayal of her best friend? You get a very pissed off Ginny, with an agenda for revenge. Since I can't post lyrics in the actual story, if you
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: Out with the Rubbish**

I woke up to the rush of air filling my lungs and feeding the oxygen to my brain. That, and the sound of screaming. I couldn't remember where I was or how I got there. I only had the feeling that I didn't want to know.

And who was screaming? Why wouldn't they shut up?

My body was finally registering with my brain. My limbs were tired, they couldn't move. Oh, Merlin, was I paralyzed? I looked about me and wiggled my toes and fingers- no, not paralysis. My legs and arms had been tied down to the bed. But where were my feet? I could still feel them, but I couldn't see them over my belly.

Over my massive belly.

My forehead was damp with sweat. My arms and legs had been immobilized. I couldn't see my feet over the huge swell of my abdomen. My throat was raw; I could feel at least that much. And that woman was still screaming. Wait a minute. The woman was me.

I was screaming. Why?

I drew a breath. What was happening to me? The door burst open, followed by hoards of men and women, all in the lime green healer's robes of St. Mungo's. They started waving their wands over me, checking my vitals and looking for damage.

"What's happening? Why am I in the hospital? Where's Harry? What happened to Voldemort?"

No one answered me. They just kept waving their wands and shuddering every time I mentioned Lord Voldemort. At least now I knew I didn't have amnesia. I knew I was in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. I knew that all the people in my room were witches and wizards, and that I was a witch myself.

I was a witch.

And if my memory served me correctly (as it had done so far) I was a damn powerful one. Where was my wand? I looked frantically around the room. There. On a table by the wall, along with picture frames and clean robes. I focused all my energy on it. It was maple, with Dragon Heartstring as the core.

'_Accio wand!' _I demanded. It flew to my hand, and the bustle about the room immediately stopped. Everyone stood silent, watching… waiting.

"Well, answer me!" I insisted, as I magically unbound myself.

No one did, until the door opened and a young girl walked in carrying fresh bed linens. An intern. The bright yellow robes signified her as such. The room was silent and so we all heard the soft, gentle humming that issued from her lips.

She turned and smiled to see me sitting up in my bed. "Ah, Miss Weasley!" she greeted me with a soft Scottish brogue. "So nice to see you're awake."

Immediately, the head healers in the room turned to shush her. But she was the only one talking- I did NOT want her silenced.

"You. Tell me what is going on. How long have I been here?"

"Me?" she squeaked. "I—uh, Miss Weasley, I—"

"Now." It was a whispered command, but it was nonetheless effective in the silent room. The head female healer buried her face in her hands while the lead male sagged into the visitor's chair by the door.

"I—all right, Miss Weasley. If you'll have a seat, I'll just change your linens and tell you all about it."

I nodded curtly. It was the least I could do, but I was not going to sit. I decided to help her change the linens. With a casual flick of my wand, the bed was stripped and the linens banished to the laundry bin in the corner.

"Well, how much do you remember?" she asked, rather clinically.

I thought about it. I didn't want to remember, but it all came flooding back.

_Harry and I had been living together ever since I had finished at Hogwarts. Mum and Dad weren't happy, but they respected my decision. Harry's first attempt to vanquish Voldemort- just six months later- had failed. Ron died that night, among hundreds of others- including Fred, Charlie, Neville and Luna- and Hermione had never been the same. She immersed herself in work at the Ministry of Magic, and we never spoke much after that. Harry and I grieved for an appropriate amount of time, but then we went on with our lives. Nearly two years of Voldemort's tyranny later, and I found out I was pregnant. I hadn't wanted to have children any time soon. I was twenty and felt that I still had years ahead of me to live MY life without having to bring up a child._

_Harry didn't feel quite the same. He had wanted to wait for children as well, but as soon as I missed my first monthly and told him the news, he was the most excited person you could find. So excited, in fact, he felt as if he could take on the world and win. So he did._

_Only he lost._

_I went after him, even though he forbade me. He said the health of our baby was the most important thing in the world and that I should hide at Grimmauld Place, because no one would be able to find me there after all the new security measures we had put up._

_Since when did I ever listen to a direct order?_

_I flooed directly to Hermione's after I woke up and found Harry's note. I told her that he had decided to go after Voldemort and that she had to come with me to back him up. After much haggling, and convincing her it was what Ron would have done, she agreed and grabbed her cloak. We apparated just outside the wards of Voldemort's lair, not a half-hour behind Harry. We came up to the wards and Hermione pulled back. She told me it was a death trap, and that she had been working too hard at the Ministry for the last two years to give it all up now by dying in some "stupid battle she could never win". She disapparated, leaving me to battle through Voldemort's traps, hexes and Death Eaters on my own._

_My best friend betrayed me to become a crooked politician._

_I came upon Voldemort and Harry in the supposed Grand Ballroom. In reality, it was a dusty, aged, worn down semblance of what had been grandeur once upon a time. The walls were cracking from endless torture of minions and prisoners alike, and there was Harry in the center of it all. I jumped in and began to hold my own, but it was all for naught. Voldemort shot Harry down with a Killing Curse, just as the Death Eater I was battling crashed into the center support beam from a Reductor curse I had cast. _

_The last thing I remember was Voldemort's laughter, before the ceiling came down and all went black._

"I remember everything," I whispered. "Everything up 'til the ceiling crashed in."

"Ah," she frowned. "Well, that helps, I suppose. The Ministry's Aurors came in not too long after that, Miss Weasley, and they were able to pull you from the rubble. They brought you here and you've been under Healer Marjorey and Healer Jackson's care ever since. They're the best, and they've been commissioned to your care by order of the Minister."

"The Minister?"

"Yes, Miss Weasley, Minister Granger."

"Minister HERMIONE GRANGER?"

"That's right," she continued soothingly, as she smoothed my bed linens with her wand. "I've been changing your linens, and sometimes they let me check your vitals and do night watch. You and the baby are both as healthy as you can be, especially now that you're awake."

I clutched my swollen abdomen. "And how long have you been changing my linens, Miss—um?"

"Elsa, miss. Just Elsa. I've been with you right from the beginning as I finish up my clinical work- about seven months, Miss Weasley."

"So I'm eight months pregnant?"

"That's right, Miss Weasley," began the head female healer- I cut her off.

"I didn't ask you," I snapped. "I asked Elsa." I sure as hell didn't want to talk to anyone that had been "commissioned" by the Minister of Magic. Minister of Betrayal, more like.

"Eight months just about, Miss Weasley. You're due the twenty-second of September. It's your birthday coming up, is it not?"

I glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall she had pointed to. It was August fifth.

"Yes, Elsa. I'll be twenty one soon."

"Ah, well happy birthday, Miss. I'm sure the entire wizarding world will be glad to hear you're up and about. If you'll lay down now, Miss Weasley, I'm sure Healers Marjorey and Jackson would like to make sure all is in order, what with you moving all about and being so stressed. It can't be good for the baby."

"The savior," someone whispered, their voice awe-filled.

My ears pricked up immediately. So my baby was supposed to be their new savior, was it? No wonder they were all submissive to me. They didn't want my rash Weasley temper hurting their chances of world salvation.

They had no idea that my temper was the thing they should be least worried about.

"I'll be happy to let you check me over, Elsa, but I don't want anyone else in this room without my express consent."

Elsa looked around her at the seven other scandalized faces in the room, her mouth gaping. She had just been given exclusive clearance to the highest security patient in the entire hospital, and it looked as if said patient did not want to deal with anyone other than herself.

This could do wonders for her medical career- I knew she wouldn't pass it up.

"Miss Weasley!" cried Healer Marjorey, the head female on staff, "I can personally guarantee you that none other than those already present will be allowed in this room if you so wish it!"

"Yes," jumped in Healer Jackson, with a deep booming voice, "if you prefer it we can see to it that no one other than myself and Healer Marjorey have clearance."

I sighed and turned to Elsa. Some people just didn't get it. If the Ministry sanctioned these healers, chances were that they were reporting directly to Hermione- the LAST person I wanted knowing my health status.

"Elsa, I don't believe I've given ANY of these people clearance. Will you please show them to the door and make sure to take them off of the security clearance list?"

Elsa looked scared. These were her superiors- they could have her fired. And I knew it. But I also knew that Hermione would want me kept under control. If that meant me running her hospital right under her nose, she would let it happen- or risk her little savior walking right out the door. Elsa was a smart girl. She would realize that.

"Come now, Elsa," I said sweetly as I eased my whale-like body back on my bed. "We wouldn't want the Minister to find out that her high-security patient was unhappy, would we?"

Else smiled at me. "No, Miss Weasley, we certainly wouldn't."

"Miss Weasley," began Healer Jackson, "I really must insist—"

"No, Healer Jackson, you really mustn't." I raised my wand. "Now get out."

They scampered. I laid back on my bed and sat obediently while Elsa checked and re-checked my vitals, then began fluffing my pillows. This is how life went for the next month and a half, and as time went on, Elsa began to love me- and I began to trust her. Things were going fine, until Hermione paid me a visit.

"GINNY! Oh, Merlin, Ginny, I was so worried about you!"

I glared at her. Hermione had never been good at lying, and I could see right through her where others couldn't. She didn't give a damn about me- she only cared about my baby and using it as the next savior. Using it to guarantee her the popular vote next year.

"Can I help you?"

"Ginny, you know I've been worried sick. Elsa, do you mind leaving us for a moment?"

"No, Minister," Elsa said obediently as she headed to the door.

"She mayn't, but I do. Stay, Elsa, please. Have a seat and help yourself to some tea. Take a break."

"Thanks, Miss Weasley."

I turned to Hermione, who was frowning. "You were saying?"

"Ah- yes, worried sick. The whole wizarding world has been asking about you for months, Gin. They need to hear you're all right. You should have seen the reaction when they found out the baby lived! So many gifts, Gin, I've never seen the likes of it!"

"Send them back."

She laughed. "Oh, Ginny, you know I couldn't do that. They'd be so heartbroken. If you don't feel comfortable taking them, just donate them anonymously."

"You know damn well that isn't what this is about, Minister."

"Minister? Come now, Ginny, we're best friends! You don't need to call me 'Minister'!"

"Oh, don't I? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that my so-called BEST FRIEND apparated away that night Harry died, right outside Voldemort's lair, leaving me to handle it on my own!"

Elsa gasped, dropping her teacup. It smashed as it hit the floor, and she repaired it with a hastily muttered 'Reparo' and a "Sorry."

Hermione flushed. "Ginny, I couldn't stay. You know that. There was work to be done- I couldn't leave the Ministry to its own devices- you know what Fudge was like!"

"I do! And that's why I thought YOU, of all people, would have understood that Voldemort needed to be taken care of THEN! If you had stayed, we might have won. Five minutes earlier, and we could have saved Harry. Getting through his guards was what ruined me- if I would have had your help, we could have WON! Without the threat of Voldemort, any lame-ass Minister would have sufficed, even Fudge!"

"Now you're going too far!" Hermione cried, clenching her teeth. "The productivity and population satisfaction of the Ministry has increased by 48 from the time I took office!"

"Satisfaction that you're going to give the world another Harry to sacrifice, you mean!" I spat.

Elsa sat, fiddling silently with her teacup, pretending to fill out paperwork. But I could see she was listening intently. That was what I had planned on.

Hermione stood, fuming. "You know I had no choice but to let them believe that. I know the prophecy said only Harry could defeat him. What better logic could they follow than to think that one of his heirs would be the one to rise up and provide Voldemort's downfall?"

"So you're letting them believe a LIE, just to secure your position of productivity in the Ministry of Magic?"

She lifted her chin, but said nothing.

"You're worse than Fudge ever was, Hermione. Now get out before Elsa has to escort you for raising up my blood pressure to dangerous levels."

She stalked to the door, but turned back for one last attempt at saving her reputation with me.

"You can't prove that your child isn't the next savior, Ginny. You and I both know that."

"You're right, Hermione, I can't. I just have an entire prophecy backing me up that says it was Harry or none!"

"Dumbledore's pensieve won't count as evidence. You still can't prove it."

She left, and slammed the door behind her. Elsa was at my bedside in an instant with her wand and a calming draught.

"Miss Weasley?" she timidly began.

"Go ahead and say it, Elsa. You won't ask me anything I don't already know."

"Would she really do it, Ginny?" she asked, giving up on propriety and using my first name from the stress of it all. "Would she really use your baby as a poster child for the Ministry, even though she knows that it has no more hope of defeating Voldemort than I would?"

I sighed, and pulled Elsa in for a hug. "Never underestimate what a brilliant woman will do to push through the glass ceiling, Elsa. Most of all, never underestimate Hermione Granger."

Elsa nodded, fervently. "But can we do anything? Can we stop her?"

"Only a stillborn would stop her, Elsa, and you said yourself that the baby is as healthy as can be expected."

Elsa paced the floor, her yellow robes (now with lime stripes) glittering in the sunlight that streamed through my window.

"We could get rid of it. Send it away. Transfigure a pillow into a stillborn baby to show as proof that it died during labor. I'm the only one that would know. I couldn't live with myself if that poor baby was sent to death because of a politician's desire to remain in office."

I sat up as straight as I could in my bed my belly bulging more than ever. "Could we, Elsa? Would you do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you, Miss Weasley. Since you made me your exclusive caretaker, I've had offers from around the globe for positions in some of the most secular hospitals available. It would be the least I could do."

"Elsa, I would be forever indebted to you if you would try."

"No, Miss Weasley. 'Try' is not in my vocabulary. I will make it happen."

Two weeks later I was induced into labor at three in the morning, with only Elsa attending me, just as we had planned. The baby came out alive and healthy, not that anyone would ever know. We had everything cleaned up and situated before the night guard even realized I had been in labor. I sat on my bed, crying and holding a bloody pillow, transfigured to look exactly like my real baby- only still and not breathing. The paperwork had been forged to look as though I had started having pregnancy complications just after the Minister's visit to me in my rooms.

Let Hermione have that on her conscience. See if she keeps her popular vote once that gets out into the public.

As the graveyard shift security guard tried to console me in my apparent grief, Elsa slipped out with the rubbish from the labor to take it to the bins. My baby had been concealed inside, wrapped in clean sheets. As soon as she reached the hospital's private rubbish dumpster, her cousin appeared out of thin air, awaiting her and the baby we had hidden in the rubbish bag. Within a blink of an eye, she, and my baby, was gone. Safe and hidden in India where no one would look for them.

I knew I would never see Exavier again, but at least I would know he was safe, and away from the Ministry's plans to turn him into a warrior toddler.

It didn't take long for Hermione to show up in her Ministry of Magic glory, ready to christen the baby and claim him a savior on behalf of the wizarding world. All she found was the stillborn transfigured pillow. She grieved appropriately for the public eye, praised me for my courage and granted me a healthy stipend for my efforts against Voldemort on behalf of the Ministry. After all was said and done, she was alone with Elsa and I before she let her true colors show.

"I know you did something with that baby, Ginny. I may not be able to find any hexes, spells, or jinxes on the body we buried today- but I know that was no baby. You did something, Ginevra Weasley, and I know it."

I could have taken so many roads. I could have been enraged. I could have thrown a postpartum fit. Instead I glared at her.

"Prove it."

She swept from the room, muttering curses.

Over the next six weeks, Elsa helped me through physical therapy as I regained strength from finally being out of my comatose state, and not having the extra thirty pounds of baby to carry around. I trained day and night, pushing my body to the limit, and soon I was back to my old self again, and Elsa was off to take a position in Australia. I packed up the articles of clothing I had arrived at the hospital in some nine months earlier. They weren't fit to wear, but I wanted to keep them. I pulled on the clothes I had had Elsa buy for me, pleased with the effect. Black knee high combat-like boots, a short black pleated skirt (for extreme freedom of movement), a black tank top and black outer robes.

"Where will you go, Ginny?" Elsa asked, as she signed the final paperwork.

"I'm going to find Voldemort," I replied. "And when I do, he will rue the day he ever heard the name Ginevra Weasley."

Elsa smiled and nodded. "I believe in you, Gin. You deserve the revenge. Go and take it."

I hugged her. "Thank you for everything, Elsa. I'll never forget you."

And with that, I was off. I was pissed, and Voldemort was going to be the outlet of my rage.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1: Supervixen 

I stepped out the front door of St. Mungo's and onto the busy streets of downtown London. Annoying, really, that there was no entrance here to the wizarding world. I didn't want to risk apparating out of the hospital- knowing Hermione, she probably had wards set to go off as soon as I did. The nearest alley would work for me, and it didn't take long to find one. Surprisingly, not too many Muggles were interested in me, despite my somewhat eccentric clothing. Even in the wizarding world I would have stood out- red hair notwithstanding- because all the black would remind people of Snape. Sure, he had been cleared by the Ministry- most likely Hermione's doing- but still. She was always soft about him because of Dumbledore. I didn't care- the man was creepy, and that was that.

Merlin, I hoped they wouldn't think I was one of his groupies.

I apparated to Diagon Alley, just outside Gringott's, and went inside to make a withdrawal from my and Harry's joint account. He had made a will and left everything to me in the event of his untimely death. Merlin, he was so kindhearted.

The prat.

I had my old wand- maple with dragon heartstring- and yes, I was fond of it, but I wanted a spare. My first stop was Ollivander's. Twenty minutes later, I emerged with a brand new wand- ebony with phoenix feather. It reminded me of myself, what with my black attire and red hair. I liked it. I held on to it to use as my chief wand, shoving my old maple one securely in my boot, but where it would still be accessible in a pinch. As I stood up from adjusting my laces, I came face to face with the Minister of Betrayal herself.

"Come back to beg for another savior?" I asked viciously.

"No, I haven't. I came to ask you to an open press conference that I'm holding on the Ministry steps in a half hour. I know there will be a lot of questions about you- the news that you left the hospital is already out, and I thought that you'd like to dispel any rumors yourself."

I cocked an eyebrow- I smelled a rat. "A press conference?"

"Yes, Ginny, a press conference. The kind where the public can ask questions and reporters can take quotes and comments to put in their stories for the paper."

"I know what a press conference is, Minister."

Hermione winced. "Yes, I suppose living with Harry, as you did, that you would. People will want to know the truth and I didn't think there would be anyone better than you to give it to them. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, really, I promise. But just seeing you might dispel some of the talk."

"And what talk is that?"

Hermione looked uncomfortable. "I don't know how to explain it, Gin, people are just talking. Will you come?"

I sighed. "Fine. Lead the way."

We walked down the alley, and we hadn't traveled more than ten steps and there was already a crowd following us. Apparently the Minister of Magic and the Mother of the Dead Savior were quite a sight to behold. By the time I reached the steps of the Ministry, I had regretted my decision. There were over a thousand witches and wizards standing there already, and as soon as I ascended the steps the buzz of rumor had begun, attracting more spectators. Hermione began speaking, but they would have none of it. They wanted to hear me, and only me. The look she gave me was pitiful, but it wasn't for her that I took the podium- it was for Harry.

"Ginny!" a reporter screamed from the fifth row. "Are you all right? What happened that night?"

I pointed my new wand at my throat. "Sonorus," I muttered.

"I'm as fine as can be expected, having witnessed the murder of my boyfriend, been in a coma for seven months due to an entire stone ceiling falling on my head, only to then wake up and lose my child due to labor complications from said coma and stressful interactions during the time I was awake."

There. I saw Hermione wince at my last comment. Apparently word of why my son had died had at least gotten to her ears, whether she believed it or not. That set the tone for the interview quite nicely. I didn't want any nonsense, like, "will you ever love again?" Hippogriff shit.

"Are you angry with the Aurors for not coming to Harry's aid soon enough?"

I shot a glance at Hermione- she was staring directly at the crowd, away from me. "No, I'm not upset with the _Aurors_. They did the best they could. They got me out with my life."

"WE LOVE YOU, GINNY!" screamed a large group of witches and wizards from the middle of the crowd.

I grimaced. I didn't deserve their love. Voldemort was still alive, thanks to me.

"How many Death Eaters did you fight that night, Miss Weasley?" called another reported. "Rumors have been circulating of you being outnumbered up to twenty to one!"

"The rumors are wrong," I stated, modestly.

"How many?" screamed a bloke from the back of the crowd.

My face was starting to burn. "Thirty seven, if you really insist upon knowing."

"YOU'RE OUR HERO!" a group of children shouted, dancing in the aisles.

I was no hero. Had I been, I would have saved Harry and taken Voldemort down that night myself. These people were all but bowing down to me, and I deserved none of it.

"What was the baby's name?" a witch cried.

"Oh, Merlin," I muttered. I hadn't been expecting that.

Apparently I muttered too loud. The crowd went wild- screaming his name, praising the 'dearly departed soul' of baby Merlin. Even Hermione looked shocked, but pleased, at this new bit of information. I put my face in my hands- everyone would think I was trying to subdue my tears, when in reality all I could do was smile. No one would ever find Exavier now- not with Hermione combing the four corners of the wizarding world for a baby named Merlin. I had insisted on cremation, so there was no gravestone to contradict me.

"What are you going to do now?" yelled another reporter.

Honestly? I was going to hunt down Lord Voldemort and kick his sorry ass for ruining my life. For making it so I didn't even have the chance to raise my baby on my own, let alone with a father. But did I want them to know that? No. My life had already been dragged through the mud for the entire world to see. Any other unwed mother would have been disgraced, but not me. Oh no, not the mother of the savior. Even though the baby was dead as far as they knew, a name like Merlin would only encourage people to think that he could survive even death and come back to save them all. They would tell their children stories of baby Merlin, the savior, who could go up in smoke and be reborn from the ashes, just like a phoenix.

People will believe anything to make themselves feel better.

So I lied to them.

"I'm going to retire. Live out in the country and try to have a peaceful life for once- out of the spotlight, and away from the terror of Voldemort."

"Don't go, Ginny!" yelled a wizard, desperately. "We love you! You're our hope! You're our salvation!"

"Only you can save us, Ginny!" screamed another witch. Thousands echoed their cries, screaming my name, calling out for my ascension to sainthood, hollering for me to take up a position as Head Auror and Co-Minister.

No. Anything but this.

The Minister took the stage. "I'm sure Miss Weasley doesn't mean forever. After all, she'll have to come into town to replenish her new stylish wardrobe."

I had to hand it to Hermione- she had unwittingly done me a favor. Pointing out my wardrobe would ensure thousands of imitators- just like Snape. This would make it impossibly easy for me to blend in. She was talking more rapidly now, so I stepped away from the podium. It looked as though my part was done. Maybe I could slip out the back.

"On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I would like to present you, Ginevra Molly Weasley, with the wand of our savior, Harry James Potter."

Wait a minute. What? I stopped dead in my tracks and spun around.

"Removed from the rubble, I give it to you in hopes that, like Merlin, you will be reborn into new life."

The crowd cheered. I burned with fury. She did that on purpose, and I knew it. She was giving me the wand as an unconscious sign that I would be, at least on a superficial level, a savior the people could rest their hopes on- not that they weren't doing that already, as the one wizard had screamed out. That I would be their hope until "Merlin" would magically return.

"You bitch," I whispered. "How can you do this to me? Haven't I suffered enough? I don't want people bowing down to me! I don't want fame, and you know it!"

She sneered at me as she handed me the wand and then turned us to face the crowd. "Prove it," she muttered through a fake smile.

I shoved the wand into my other boot behind the shadows of my robes and swore at Hermione a few more times under the cover of the crowd chanting my name and calling me their queen.

They wanted theatrics? Fine.

With a swish of my wand I disapparated- in a cloud of red smoke.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2: Queer**

I had been out of the hospital for three days. Grimmauld Place was filthy, and I honestly didn't care enough to clean it. I wouldn't be there for long. I did enough around the bedroom I had shared with Harry and the kitchen to make it livable and left the rest to go to seed. I was a woman on a mission, and the first place I would head after I got my kit together would be Malfoy Manor. The residence of Voldemort's chief crony would undoubtedly be hiding something of value to me and my quest for the destruction of the Dark Tosser. I put Harry's wand away- I had no need for it yet. I knew it would be months before I would put myself in contact with Lord Voldemort for the final time. And that was the only time I wanted Harry's wand to be used- complete decimation. Destruction. Devastation. Demolition.

Damage.

I placed the urn that held my pillow's ashes on my nightstand. It really was rather pretty, and I knew that whenever I slept here it would remind me of why I had ostracized myself from society. So that maybe one day Exavier, if he wished, could return and live a normal life. Whether or not I would live to see it was a completely different story, and it was neither here nor there at the present time. Every night, I said a prayer to the Gods that my baby was safe in India. Safe, and not worried about me. I really wasn't fit to be a mother any way.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Three weeks later, after the wizarding world had had sufficient time to stop blabbing rumors about me, I headed across country to Malfoy Manor. My robes had been completely remodeled to house several hidden pockets, many of which contained various unsold products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and others that enclosed a few random concoctions of my own. I had bought several sets of my new attire, shrunk them, and placed them in yet another pouch hidden inside my robes. They varied slightly from one another, but the basic principle was the same: black from head to toe. Some socks were wool, others were cotton. I had shrunk enough to last me two weeks before I would need to start scourgifying.

I wasn't sure what to expect once I came upon Malfoy Manor, but what I found would have been furthest from my thoughts, had I actually thought about it. It wasn't made of rock, and it wasn't a castle. It didn't have a drawbridge, and it most definitely didn't have a moat. It was just your standard Victorian Tudor- still extremely posh, but nothing like the fairy-tale palace Draco had always made it out to be. Scanning my wand over the grounds, I used the most fundamental to the most multifarious spells I knew and didn't find anything of interest. There were just your basic Muggle-Repelling charms.

I definitely didn't expect that.

Seeing as I was no Muggle, I had no problem walking straight up to the front door and making a rather large racket with the silver serpent doorknocker.

Now the doorknocker, THAT I would have expected.

A house elf greeted me in about three seconds and showed me to the study where I saw Draco Malfoy for the first time in nearly five years. He sat in an overstuffed leather chair in front of the window, leaving his face half hidden in shadow. There was a boy of about thirteen kneeling on the floor in front of Draco's chair with his head in the blonde's lap. I gathered that he must be on Christmas holiday from Hogwarts. As to what his relationship was with Draco, I had no idea. But with the soft paternal strokes the Slytherin was issuing on top of the boy's hair, I had a sick feeling that I didn't want to know.

"Mrs. Potter, how nice to see you."

"It's actually still Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. Harry and I were never married."

I kept my hand close to my chest in this game. I had no idea what Draco had been up to the last half decade- I needed to be careful if I wanted to find out anything that could potentially be useful to me.

"Ah, so not yet a widow, I see?"

I shook my head. "No, I suppose not. And what of you and Pansy? Last I heard you were engaged."

Draco's face immediately hardened. Oops. Looks like I played that card a little too early.

"I washed my hands of that filth several years ago. She was tainted."

I lowered my head in graceful obeisance. "Am I to understand you are glad to be rid of her?"

"Of course," he said, waving me to a chair with the free hand that wasn't stroking the child's head. "After my father had his way with her, I wanted nothing of it."

Now we were getting somewhere.

"Forgive me for my ignorance," I said, softly. "You may have heard that I was comatose for several months. What, may I ask, happened to your father?"

"You killed him."

I looked up sharply. "Did I?"

"Yes. That night at the Dark Lord's lair. I am to understand that you broke his neck when you blasted him into the central support beam for the ceiling which later crashed in upon you, causing you to go into said coma."

I didn't respond. Something told me to hold my tongue.

"My only regret is that you were unconscious for so long, Ginny. Do you mind if I call you Ginny?" Draco inquired, looking up from the boy's head for the first time.

I shook my head.

"Good. I was devastated to hear of your illness, Ginny, for it meant that I would have an undetermined amount of time to wait before I could properly thank you."

Now was the time. "You wanted to thank me for killing your father?" I asked.

"Oh yes, of course. You see, Ginny, since you killed him I didn't have to bother myself about hiring someone to do it for me. The way I see it, I owe you quite a ransom."

"Mr. Malfoy—"

"Please, call me Draco."

"Draco, really. You don't need to give me any gold. Harry left me everything, so to be quite honest, I really have no need for it."

"But you must let me repay you. You've done me quite a service."

I was stumped. I couldn't believe this had been so easy.

"Well," I began, slowly, "I suppose we could discuss it if you wished, Draco. There is, after all, something you have that I might find of value."

Draco raised his cold grey eyes to me, and I swear I saw a flicker of warmth behind them. He lightly tapped the boy in his lap on the shoulder, signaling him to rise. The boy remained on his knees, but raised himself to Draco's eye level.

"You may go for now," Draco whispered lovingly. "Let the others know I'll be in to serve supper shortly. Your company has greatly pleased me this afternoon. Let me know how I may reward you later."

The boy smiled as he leaned in toward Draco's face, and I watched in horror as they kissed one another long and hard on the lips.

Draco Malfoy had turned into a pederast. Now that, I had DEFINITELY not expected.

"His father never loved him, either," Draco explained sadly. "None of their fathers do. So they come to me, and I love them. I'm their father now."

"How noble of you to show them the adoration you never felt from your own father," I offered, hoping it was the right way of approaching things. "They must be very grateful to you."

"They are," he admitted candidly, "as I am grateful to them. We are a family now, the boys and I, and we are all we need."

Ah. That explained the lack of wards surrounding the manor.

"So what is it that I can do for you, Ginny, other than offer you a brandy? My, my manners are lacking, I should have offered you one the moment you arrived. You will always be an honored guest here, Ginny, I want you to know that."

Now this was an honor I could not deny I had earned. Lucius Malfoy had been the bane of my existance, and I was glad he was gone. It didn't hurt that Draco felt the same way.

"Let's be honest with one another, Draco," I said, graciously accepting the aged brady he offered me. "You, of all people, know exactly what I want. I want Voldemort. I want to know where he is hiding, what he has been doing since I've been asleep, what his ultimate plans are, and how he would like his black heart handed to him- on a skewer, or on a platter."

Draco smiled. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, I see. Well, Ginny, you shall get all that from me and more."

I took a generous sip of brandy. NOW we were talking.

"The wizard styling himself as Lord Voldemort is hiding in Wales. He seems to feel that the closer he is to detection, the further he is from getting caught."

I laughed appreciatively. Prat though he had always been, I never could deny that Draco had a way with words.

"Since Harry's final attack, he has been lying low. I think, almost, to see whether or not you would die as well, whether from your coma or from your grief when you awoke from it. It seems that you are the only thing he considers to be "unfinished business". Granger is all washed up, princess of the public's eye, and he has nothing to fear from her."

"She's an even bigger puppet than Fudge," I spat, unable to hide my feelings on that particular topic of conversation. Draco raised his glass.

"I see we finally see eye to eye on that particular witch."

"No need to sensor yourself, Draco. She's a bitch if there ever was one."

"So the rumors are true, then?"

"That she left me to face Voldemort with Harry alone, so she would be safe to persue her career in politics? Every word. How did you find out?"

Draco smiled malignantly. "A man has his ways, especially when he is sleeping with the Undersecretary's son."

"Touche. So what else have you learned from these handy little connections of yours?"

"Since you have been… incapacitated, shall we say? Voldemort has been slowly building forces, using the same age-old techniques: bribery, torture, and blackmail. You took out a large chunk of his army that night, Ginny, let no modesty hide that. Harry had always been claimed for the Lord himself, so he was spared several times before he reached that ballroom. He made many ignorant mistakes that would have cost any other intruder their life- my apologies for being so crass, but that is the way things are with the Death Eaters. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course I do, Draco. You're telling the truth, and that is something I can appreciate. Everyone treds so lightly around me now, it's depressing. It's refreshing to hear the real story from someone who neither fears nor worships me, but sees me as an equal."

Draco bowed his head slightly. "So, it looks as though Lord Voldemort is biding his time until his forces are strong enough to take over. I am sure that once you arrived, he did not intend you to make it out alive. Rest assured knowing that he is mightily enraged at you for even surviving in a comatose state. I can't imagine what his fury will be like when he learns that you are back in action and looking for revenge."

Now it was my turn to bow my head. It was a nice compliment.

"In short, as for his ultimate plans, they are the same as they have always been: world domination and immortality. And in reference to how he would like his heart handed to him, you and I both know the answer to that. He has no heart."

I smiled. The pederast had a point.

"Here," Draco said, offering me a folded slip of parchment. "The coordinates to his hideout in Wales. It's heavily guarded, but I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle, even without your rage to motivate you."

I opened the slip, memorized the coordinates, and burned the parchment. "Thank you, Draco. You've been most helpful."

"You're welcome, but don't think that I've repaid you yet. The information alone is not enough."

He stood, snapped his fingers, and a house elf immediately appeared. "Please go to my mother's apartments and retrieve her jewelry box."

"Yes, Master Malfoy," said the elf, immediately disappearing and reappearing with happily obedient haste. "Here you are, Master Malfoy. Will Master be needing anything else, or shall Sniffy gather the boys for supper?"

"Yes, Sniffy, please do so. Thank you."

Sniffy disappeared once more, leaving Draco and I alone with a jewelry box the size of a dresser. Draco looked through a few drawers, apparently looking for something specific, and found whatever it was after a few minutes.

"Here," he offered, holding it up to the light for me to admire. "The finest Goblin-wrought silver, encrusted with diamonds, rubies and emeralds."

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. A dragon pendant, crafted to lifelike perfection with glittering diamond scales, miniscule ruby flames issuing from its jaws, and penetrating emerald eyes.

"It was my mother's favorite, and I want you to have it as part of my payment."

"Draco, I'm not entirely sure I could accept this. Surely it's one of a kind and it would be like a signal fire swearing your alliance with me."

"Don't worry. She never wore it in public, and anyone that has ever seen it (other than you and I) is deceased." I lifted my hair so he could fasten the chain around my neck. "Wear it always- it's charmed never to come off unless by the wearers hands. I hope it will bring you luck."

I walked to the window so I could admire the reflection. "I think it will bring me more than luck," I whispered, "it will bring me protection."

"I'm glad you like it. But please remember it is only part of my payment. You are always welcome here, Ginny. Either I or my elves will attend your every need."

"Thank you, Draco, very kindly. I will always remember that, although I hope to never need a hideaway or a housecall healer."

He smiled, then checked his pocketwatch. "Please excuse me, Ginny, I'm terribly late in serving supper. The boys are growing, after all, and need their food.Would you care to stay?"

I shook my head. "Thank you, though. You offer is very kind."

He bowed. "It is the least I can do. Do not hesitate to contact me if you are ever in need of anything, even houseroom. May Sniffy show you to the door?"

"Yes, thank you. And thank you for the lovely gift, as well as the information."

"Think nothing of it," he replied, waving my thanks away. "I am forever in your debt."

I dipped him a slight curtsey- it seemed like the right thing to do- and let Sniffy show me to the door. His offer was kind, but as nice as it was, I hoped I would never have to take him up on it. I didn't want to witness anything that might happen with "the boys" behind closed doors. I apparated back to Grimmauld Place and removed the pendant. Touching it lightly with my wand, I muttered the incantation to make it a portkey. It would take me to Elsa, should I ever have need of her again. Carefully, I fastened it firmly around my neck once again and stood in front of the mirror, admiring the way the rubies, diamonds and emeralds glittered in the sunlight streaming through the window. My dragon was priceless, in more than one fashion.

It truly had been a productive day, and tomorrow would bring me one step closer to my goal- the final and ulitmate destruction of Lord Voldemort.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: __if you're interested in reading/listening to the music that inspired **Supervixen**, check out Garbage, and their self-titled CD. It will definitely give you some insight as to what's in store for our favorite heroine!  
_**  
**

**Chapter 3: Only Happy When it Rains**

It was the end of January- and the beginning of a new year. Apparently along with that, as I had recently learned, this meant that there was to be a festival to celebrate not only the end of the previous calendar year, but also an anniversary celebration of my 'victory' over Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

I seriously don't know where these people come up with such backward ideas.

What happened that night between Voldemort, Harry, and I was anything but a victory for the good side. Sure the public may think that, thanks to Hermione's 'lack of disastrous happenings means safety and peace' philosophy of running things, but I knew the truth. And so that was why I planned on attending said festival: to see if I could dig up any information on Voldemort's plans, without having to listen at keyholes in his hideout. It also didn't hurt that I would be there to kick some Death Eater arse in case they decided to make an appearance.

The festival was rather enjoyable; at least it would have been if its entire purpose weren't to celebrate a fictional triumph. No one gave me more than a passing glance, which suited me just fine. I wasn't here to be noticed, I was here to skulk around alleys and dig up information on Voldemort and any of his weaknesses. There were hidden supporters of the Dark Lord everywhere; I could pick them out in the crowd even if the Ministry officials couldn't. I pulled my cloak tighter around my neck, ducked into a shady looking ale tent and found myself a seat at the makeshift bar. I was enough a part of the crowd where I wouldn't attract any unwanted attention, yet separate enough that I would be able to single out important conversations and tidbits of helpful gossip.

"What'll it be, lass?" asked the bartender, leering down at the gap in my cloak.

"A pint of lager," I said, not bothering with pleasantries. I was here to listen, not to talk.

The wizard came back a few moments later balancing a half-liter mug- two sizes larger than I had asked for- on his wand. "On the house, lass."

I eyed him suspiciously, twisting on my stool to look around the tent. "On the house, or on one of the blokes behind me?"

"The house," he answered, practically drooling as I loosened the clasp on my winter cloak- the warming charms on the tent were stifling. "You're one of the best look-alikes I've seen today, and it wouldn't do to have your efforts go unrewarded."

Great Merlin, was he serious?

Oh well, I might as well play it up. I removed my cloak completely, laying it across my lap, and tossed my hair behind my shoulders- thrusting out my chest in the process.

"You really think so?"

"D—def—definitely. I think you might have a shot at winning that contest, although I'm not too sure if the pendant will make or break you. It's smart, don't get me wrong, but it looks a bit pricey for Miss Weasley's style."

I winked at him. "Thanks for the tip, mate … and the beer."

"My pleasure… Ginny." He winked back at me as he walked away.

I discreetly waved my wand over my drink, checking for any poisons. I found none, and took a long sip. I took a glance around the beer tent, and sure enough there were at least five other 'Ginnys' sitting and enjoying a wide assortment of beverages. I grinned. I definitely wouldn't be noticed if I sat here all afternoon. A conversation loomed up in the background, so I dropped an extendable ear on the ground and watched as it wriggled underneath the straw and over to the table in question.

"—say He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has no plans for little Weasley. Says that he doesn't find her to be much of a threat, her being just a girl and all."

"You don't say? I'd think he'd be wearier of her after last year. Took out fifty of his men in one shot, I heard."

"Fifty? I heard seventy. That's a witch I wouldn't want to mess with, even if she does have a great set of—"

I gave a tug on my ear. There was nothing being said there that I hadn't heard before, although the numbers had certainly escalated. I sipped on my lager and perked my ears up to another corner of the tent.

"—will give the signal when he's ready, we don't want to take out the girl at the wrong time."

"I don't see what it matters any way. It's just for fun, so why don't we take them all?"

"Because, you nitwit, he wants to make sure the REAL Weasley finds out about it. She wouldn't be caught dead at her own festival, so if we kill off her number one copy-kneazel she'll be more likely to make a false step and reveal herself. She never liked it when innocent people got killed, I mean, you heard the rumors of how depressed she was a Hogwarts when her mother was one of the thirty we got in that raid on Lockheart's Admirers Book club meeting- she thought it was her fault that the others were killed. As if being associated with a Weasley was an automatic date with the Dark Lord's wand- and this time she's even more elusive."

"Has she really been in hiding since she woke up? No one's seen hide nor hair of her since she disappeared on the steps of the Ministry, and just before we could get a shot at her."

So, they WERE after me? It looked like Lord Voldemort wasn't the type of man to leave his business unfinished for long.

"I know. I was just about to get her, and then that damned cloud of red smoke she set off blocked my view."

"Yeah, right, because the apothecary attic you were hiding in had such a great view of the Ministry."

"Sod off, Akers. It's beside the point any way, she got away. But we'll just keep killing off her look-alikes until she shows herself, and then we'll take her to the Dark Lord to have his way with her—"

I yanked my ear back to me and downed the rest of my beer. These girls had no idea the potential trouble they were getting themselves in by dressing like me. How could they be so stupid? It wasn't as if I was a _Wizard Monthly_ centerfold girl- why on earth would they want to look like me? Red hair was NOT the best thing in the world to match robes with.

I checked my watch and looked about the bar- it was nearly four in the afternoon, and so the festival was just getting into full swing. Quarter past four rolled around, and all the Ginnys got up and left the tent.

"You better get a move on, lass, if you want to win that contest," the bartender said, coming over to take my empty glass. "It starts at four thirty, doesn't it?"

"Right," I agreed, even though I hadn't the slightest idea. "Thanks again for the beer, mate."

"Of course. Come back and celebrate with me after you win," he added, eyeing me lustily.

"Maybe," I said, pulling on my cloak. "There might be a line you'll have to wait in."

I swept from the tent and looked around for anyone that looked like me. Once I found them, all I would need to do is follow along and blend in with the crowd. They would take me where I needed to go. It didn't take long for me to spot a group of five girls, all with red hair, and all heading more or less to the center of the carnival. I slid in behind them, and soon I was in the middle of a throng of thirty or so young women, all dressed nearly exactly like me. I listened to their conversations as we headed to the stage where the contest would be held.

"—believe she had the nerve to show up here! She totally stole my idea on making my own costume."

"I know, Shamra. Making her own clothes is totally something Ginny would do, too. I still think you've got a shot to win, though. You look great!"

I glanced behind me to where Shamra was walking with her friend. The friend was right, Shamra really did look quite a lot like me, although her hair was much too long at waist length to be manageable for my lifestyle, her eyes had been magicked to look brown (I don't know how I knew that, I just did), and she was about three inches too tall, stiletto boots notwithstanding. And I would never have the TIME to make my own clothes; my mum always did it for us.

"Oh, MERLIN, Beth," I heard Shamra hiss, "look! There she IS! Look at her, she's posing for pictures with little kids."

I craned my neck to see where they were looking at, and had to shove my fist in my mouth to stifle my laughter. They weren't kidding. The girl who they had been talking about was surrounded by a hoard of screaming wizard children, all hollering 'Ginny, Ginny! Take a picture with ME, Ginny!' And she obliged them. I snorted. Shamra and Beth gave me rather funny looks, so I shrugged.

"If anything could make her lose this contest, that should. I—Ginny would NEVER pose so willingly for a camera, everyone knows that. And look how big she's smiling. She looks HAPPY to be surrounded by all those kids."

"Merlin, she looks perfect though."

"Perfect for a dung beetle. I'd like to go wipe that smile off her face. She looks like a fool. I would never—the real Ginny would NEVER act like that.

"The judges love her, though. Her smile is perfect. But do you really think she's got Ginny all wrong?" Shamra asked, clinging to my scorn like a lifeline.

"Being the real Ginny Weasley, I know she's got it wrong," I spat. Oops. I just blew my cover.

Beth grinned. "We're ALL the real Ginny here, mate."

I inwardly groaned, and outwardly winked. Beth had just saved my arse. "Right. And since we're all real Ginnys, we know that Ginny Weasley never smiles- except in the dark."

They laughed appreciatively. They had no idea how serious I was. I couldn't remember the last time I had given a sincere smile, unless you counted the time I had woken up in the middle of the night at Grimmauld Place after I had a dream that I was carrying Exavier in a silk scarf harness through the markets of New Delhi. That had been over a month ago.

My impersonator left the crowd of screaming children and began to walk right towards my part of the group. "Hey, Shamra!" she called, her voice dripping with honey. "How many pictures have you taken today?"

Shamra glanced at Beth and me before she answered, "None, Melinda. We all know that the real Ginny would never sell herself like that."

Melinda scoffed. "Yeah, right. And who here told you that line of sod? I'd like to meet this supreme Ginny Weasley authority."

"I'm right here," I piped in, taking the brunt of the force away from Shamra and Beth. They were just here to have fun. This girl, on the other hand, was trying to make a profit off of my hard earned life. A life that was complete shite, mind you, and yet she was still trying to steal it from me.

Melinda stared down at me from her pointed nose, five inches above me. "You? You look like a trollop, not Ginny Weasley."

And she then proceeded to tell me everything that was wrong with my outfit, makeup (or lack thereof), shoes, hair, and freckles, along with every reason why I wouldn't win the contest designed to pick the person who looked the most like… well, the most like me.

I would have laughed if the situation weren't so grave.

I was most likely standing next to the two best contestants, and they had no idea that I was trying to save their lives today by entering the stupid contest they were so set on winning. They had no idea that they were setting themselves up to be leered at by manky old wizards, and have photos taken that the same wizards would have lurid fantasies about. It was disgusting, honestly. I didn't like the thought of men around the country thinking of me instead of their wives. I had no desire to be famous for this exact reason. I didn't want anyone thinking about me in that nature other than the man I was with, and thanks to Voldemort, that man was dead. And yet I was going to enter this competition and let people stare at me, if it could spare the lives of the other girls involved. Yes, I was going to save their lives (even the bitch) by outing myself in the contest at the opportune moment.

Merlin, the irony of it all.

I took my place in the queue, right between Melinda and Shamra, with Bethon Shamra's other side. Believe it or not, there was actually incentive for the girls- fifty galleons cash prize to the winner, with twenty-five for the runner up. I tried to make myself believe that this was the only reason over one hundred girls had all dressed up to look like me, but what I had overheard Shamra, Beth, Melinda, and all the other girls say it was making it hard to convince myself of the lie.

The judges were either wizarding tabloid press and photographers or Ministry officials (most likely Aurors in civilian clothes, there to break up any fights between contestants and keep and eye out for Death Eaters. Miserable job, they were doing, too- Lord Voldemort's supporters were everywhere). I couldn't help but think that if I didn't win my own impersonation contest, there was something seriously wrong with the world. Scratch that- it was far too late. There already WAS something seriously wrong with the world if they were even having this contest in the first place. The Death Eaters I had eavesdropped on in the ale tent had arrived, spread out through the crowd but still making eye contact with their fellows. The only problem was that if I outed them to the Aurors posing as judges, there would most likely be panic, chaos, and even more unnecessary deaths than were already planned.

It looked as though I would have to handle this on my own.

They brought us to the stage in groups of twelve, and the judges deliberated which lucky contestants would go on to the next round. Those whose costumes were deemed not good enough were thanked for their participation and politely asked to leave the stage. Honestly, the absurdity of it all was enough to make me sick, if there weren't people's lives on the line. Not surprisingly, Melinda and I were both advanced to the next round, as were Beth and Shamra (although Beth's costume was certainly not nearly as well done as her friend's). We waited. Everyone was nervous, but I was the only one that was nervous about something other than the contest. The Death Eaters were growing antsy- they wanted their winner to be selected, so they could kill her and get into the pubs and celebrate before the rain started. Round two commenced, and Beth was eliminated.

"Good luck!" she said, giving Shamra a hug. "You too!" she added, smiling at me. I shrugged. I wasn't here to win. I was here to save their arses. Beth was lucky she had been purged- it was worth her life to move on, whether she knew it or not.

Rounds three and four became more competitive. The judges started asking questions, trying to weed out those that hadn't done their research. They were easy for me- I just had to rattle off the facts. Birthday, the way I took my tea, when my and Harry's anniversary was, how many Death Eaters I took out that last night at Lord Voldemort's lair, my baby's name (they almost got me on that one, seeing as the entire world thought Exavier was named Merlin). Shamra and Melinda were by far some of the best. They even added on extra tidbits of information to win favor with the judges. I scowled. If any of the photographers on the panel looked at me, they would see my face as genuine representation of what they saw through their camera lenses when I caught them snapping pictures. Now I was getting antsy, and I could see my vexation reflected in the Death Eaters I had pinpointed in the crowd. This needed to end, before someone got hurt.

Round seven was apparently the finals. They had dwindled us down to five- myself, Melinda, Shamra, and two other girls. One was about my height but with green eyes- most likely to symbolize Harry, and the other was actually shorter- but I could tell her hair had been dyed. The eyes of the Death Eaters I could see looked almost erotic. They could smell the kill right in front of them, and were eager to slake their lust. I couldn't let it happen. The final round was a short answer question, and we could choose the order in which we answered. I immediately went to the back so I could answer last. Shamra graciously let Melinda go first, but I saw through it for the favor-winning stunt that it was. I chanced a look at the clouds- they were even darker than before. Rain was coming.

"If you were the real Ginny Weasley," the judge asked Melinda, "and you had one chance to issue a statement for all the wizarding world to hear, what would you like to say? Just one statement, please, begin now."

I remembered this man. He was the one reporter Harry granted an interview to after we started living together. I had been interviewed as well, and I hoped the man would remember my personality- namely, the snarky bite I used in half my statements. He had liked me, and I prayed to whatever Deity was up there that he would remember.

Melinda tapped her wand with her throat, and smiled at the audience. "I would want you all to know that I know that if we stick together, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can be brought down! I believe in us!"

I quickly turned my laugh into a hacking cough. Merlin, who was this girl kidding?

"Thank you. Next contestant, same question. If you were the real Ginny, what would you want to say?"

The girl with green eyes stepped forward, also tapping her throat with her wand. "I would like to say thank you for all of your support for me after Harry died. I will never forget it, and I will think of you all in my heart every day."

All of their support? I think she meant to say 'all the nice baby gifts you sent for the next savior you would sacrifice'. Puh-lease. Was that a drop I felt? I looked up at the sky- it was getting ominous. My only hope was that the contest would be postponed and the Death Eaters would call off their mission.

"How very nice! Finalist number three, please, same question. If you were Ginny, what would you like the world to know?"

Shamra stepped forward. Please, if anyone up there loves me, let HER at least be a credit to my name. Tapping her throat firmly with her wand, she spoke firmly for the world to hear.

"I, Ginny Weasley, hereby do publicly offer my resignation. Again. I have no further desire to live in the public's eye, and have told you time and time again that I want to retire. Please remember me in your thoughts, as I will remember you in mine, but I can no longer handle the pain of the limelight. I wish to retire to the country and remember Harry and my baby in peace."

Oh, Shamra. She brought a tear to my eye with that, even if it wasn't the FIRST item on my list of things to accomplish. That was hitting about number three at the moment.

"Very well said, and very accurate indeed!" praised the judge. "We all remember a statement similar to that at Ginny's last public appearance." I had to laugh at that- Melinda looked furious. "Next contestant, please, and the same question to you, young lady."

The shortest girl stepped forward, tapped her throat with her wand, and looked winsomely at the crowd. "I would like to announce that I am running for Minister of Magic! Minister Granger, I hope you're up for a little friendly competition from your old mate!"

I stared at her, horror-struck. Merlin knew I would NEVER, EVER run for Minister of Magic. But the crowd LOVED it. It was revolting. Thunder rumbled lowly somewhere in the distance.

The judge laughed. "Ah, if only it were true! A girl after our own hearts, that one is. And the final contestant please, if you'll step forward, miss. I'll repeat the question for you. If you were the real Ginny Weasley and you had one chance to issue a statement for the world to hear, what would you like to say?"

"If I were the REAL Ginny Weasley?" I asked, after I had cast the sonorous charm on myself.

"That's right," he repeated, "if you were the real Ginny Weasley."

"You're in luck then, because I AM the real Ginny Weasley. And since I am, I will take this moment to let all the Death Eating shit in the crowd know that they've messed with the wrong witch. If you want to pick on a redhead, your girl is right here. Leave the others out of this; they've done nothing wrong.

"Voldemort hasn't seen the last of me, he can be sure of that. As for now, if you want me dead—" I set off the haze of red smoke, hopped on the broom I had pulled from my pocket and enlarged, and shot twenty feet in the air, where everyone could see, just as the cloud above us burst, sending down a torrent of water. "—come and get me!"

I sped off like a rocket, glancing behind me quickly only to make sure the Death Eaters were following me and not hurting any of the spectators, who were now scattering for shelter or putting up their brollies. A few minutes later and the scum that was pursuing me had given up the chase. They had no idea where I was going, so they couldn't apparate there to head me off. The girls were safe- for the time being. As for Shamra, and maybe Beth, too, I thought I would send her a gift basket. A letter and a photo of Harry and I for her to keep, or something of that sort. Maybe, if my life had been different, we could have been friends. Maybe…


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4: As Heaven is Wide**

I was running out of time. The prospective attacks on the Ginnys in the last three months had made that all the more real to me. If I wanted Voldemort's undivided attention, I needed to strike- and fast. I apparated to Wales, leaving thousands of adoring fan letters cluttering my O.P. box in London's wizard district. I knew I would never answer any of them. Maybe Exavier would want to read them all if he came back to England when he got older, I certainly didn't know. Thanks to Voldemort, I didn't know anything about my son.

Not that I wanted to be a mother in the first place any way.

Voldemort's new domain was a rather old fashioned mansion in the countryside. I imagine that he had his undercronys do the actual realtor dealing, and then kill the poor soul that signed the contract so they wouldn't have to pay. I personally thought that the house was hideous, and if holy was as holy does it would burn straight down to hell where it belonged.

Now there was an idea.

I pulled the hood of my robes up over my hair and waited in the thicket on the mansion's west side. The moon was new, and even though the April stars were brighter this far away from the city's lights, I was virtually invisible in the landscaping. Pulling another extendable ear from my left inner breast pocket, I waited and heard nothing. I scanned the lawns about me, looking for any better way of eavesdropping, and my sights rested on a lone Death Eater walking up the garden path. I shot an elementary hex at him, and the desired effect was instant- he stooped to tie his shoe. Since he was still, I launched my next weapon at the sole of his other upturned boot. Contact.

I was in.

Standing up, he hurried up the walkway and into the house. All I needed to do now was wait. I'd wait all night if I had to. And I nearly did- about four hours. Ten or so more Death Eaters showed up during that time, and my extendable picked up rather sickening noises and tortured screams coming from another end of the house- it looked like His Righteousness wasn't very happy tonight. Finally, at the end of those four hours, I felt the tug.

The ignorant sod with my tracking device stuck to his boot had just apparated. I followed.

I landed silently in the rushes on a deserted beach, and followed behind my man to a cave cut out of a rocky hillside. It seemed that only privileged few had the location of the mansion I had just visited. It was an advantage- when I finally launched my attack on Voldemort, there would be less guards to get through.

I waited until I was sure every Death Eater had entered the cave before I stupefied the unlucky rookie they had left to guard the entrance. Pulling the mask from his face, I shoved it over my own head and covered his unconscious body with Harry's invisibility cloak. With my own face currently hidden behind his cowl, I would be unidentifiable to any latecomers (unlikely) to the meeting. I was free to stand here and eavesdrop until the assembly was adjourned, after which I would uncover, re-mask, and enervate the recruit, and then apparate the hell out of there. With my extendable at the ready, I listened.

Merlin, did I not like what I heard.

"—the girl with her on tour, so it looks like she has a unified front with Weasley."

"And Weasley does not know about this?"

That was Voldemort. I could tell by the sickly cold emanating from the voice.

"No, my Lord. Weasley and Granger haven't spoken since the impromptu press conference last November, when Weasley was first released from St. Mungo's."

"And when she finds out, Weasley will most likely follow to ensure the girl's safety, correct?"

"We find that most likely, my Lord."

"Very well, Ambrey, your information has pleased me."

"Thank you, my Lord. My life is yours to do with as you wish, my Lord."

Please. Grovel some more, why don't you?

"Valenport!" Voldemort hissed. "What news do you have for me?"

I heard what I could only assume to be Valenport shuffle forward.

"I have investigated Weasley's house, my Lord, as you asked, and I have found that it is deserted. The girl doesn't live there, and it looks as though no one else does, either."

Wait a minute. They couldn't be talking about Grimmauld Place. I was the secret keeper, for crying out loud, and I hadn't told a soul, living or dead.

"Th—that is all, my Lord," stammered Valenport, after a very awkward silence.

"That's ALL?" Voldemort asked softly.

"Y—yes, my Lord."

"Do you mean to tell me that you didn't bother to try and find out where the trollop could be hiding?"

"Well, my L—"

"And do you mean to tell me that after you discovered the Burrow was empty, you didn't take any steps to ensure Weasley would find out that we're on her trail?"

"Steps? What steps m—"

"Do you mean to tell me that you went all the way to Ottery St. Catchpole and didn't burn that damn house to the ground? You didn't leave notice of our presence to try and call her out? You didn't kill anyone? You didn't hunt down the two brothers she has left that she still speaks to and torture her whereabouts out of them?"

"No, my Lord! I am incredibly dumb and vile, my Lord! I am not worthy!" cried Valenport desperately. "My Lord, I did not think!"

"Well that is painfully obvious, Valenport, as to just how painful, you are about to find out—CRUCIO!"

Valenport's screams filled the cave, and I jerked the extendable out of my ear so I wouldn't go deaf. Nearly twenty minutes of torture ensued, during which time I checked my draftee to make sure he was still stunned. Finally, the screaming stopped.

"Now listen to me, all of you," Voldemort hissed. "You have two weeks. Two weeks to gather any information on the Weasley girl you can find. I don't care how frivolous it may seem, I want to know about it, understand? Anything from what she had for tea to when she visit's her mother's grave, I want to know about it."

"Yes, my Lord," muttered the Death Eaters in unison.

"Two weeks. We meet a midnight at the mansion, and afterwards, if I am pleased with the results, we shall pay a little visit to Ottery St. Catchpole and make up for Valenport's blunder. If you bring the girl to me that night, we'll take her with us and make her watch while we burn down her precious parents' house."

Another chorus of 'Yes, my Lord.'

"You ten—I want you to track the Minister and see if Weasley is following her and her look-alike. If you find her, bring her to me under any means necessary. If you have to kill the look-alike in the process, do so. I could care less as long as it brings Weasley out into the open. I want her, but I want her alive. The same goes for the rest of you here- if she's not tailing the Minister and the imposter brat and you find her; bring her here- I repeat, ALIVE. I have plans for Potter's girlfriend, and I don't want any of you mucking them up. Although… whoever brings her to me, whole and in tact, well, I might just let them have her as a reward once I finish with her."

There was a sickening sound of appreciative laughter, and I called my extendable home. Pulling the mask from my head, I wiped the sweat off my face as I replaced it over the rookie's head. Covering myself in Harry's invisibility cloak, I enervated him and then disapparated. Landing somewhat ungracefully in my foyer, I ran to the toilet and threw up.

So Voldemort had plans for me, did he? Well. Little did he know that I had an entire arsenal of warfare in my robes, and I was eager to use it.

Arson.

He was going to torch the Burrow. And in the meantime, an entire army of Death Eaters would be trying to find George and Bill and torture any possible information out of them. But Bill was in France, and George had taken the joke shop to America after Fred died. He left Lee to run all their branches in Britain. I didn't think that Lord Voldemort would ever be able to track them down, but I had to try and warn them. I didn't have a floo address for Bill or George, and even if I had, I couldn't be sure they were secure. I'd have to send letters by the fastest owls possible.

No- scratch that. I would send them by portkey. It would cost me a fortune, but the security would be worth it.

And what of the girl that Hermione was taking with her? It was probably Melinda- Shamra would never have done it- but I couldn't bear it if anything happened to the girl, even though she was a complete bitch. I'd have to warn her, too. And Hermione. Tomorrow, after I sent the letters to my brothers, I would go to the Ministry of Magic and demand a meeting with the Baroness of Betrayal. It was the least I could do. And besides- I didn't want her dead.

Not until I could discredit her for what she did to Harry and me, first. Then she could pop her clogs whenever she felt like it.

I went to the owl post office first thing in the morning to send the letters I had written to George and Bill. I was right to think it would cost a gorgeous galleon- they charged me fifty a piece, and then a ten galleon service fee since Bill was in France, along with another twenty-five galleon fee since George was in the U.S.

Thank Merlin gold wasn't an object for me any more. I would have been in deep doxie droppings if it was.

It was nine in the morning when I stepped in the front doors of the Ministry, and I was only stopped a few times since I mostly just blended in with those that were arriving for work. It was when I reached Hermione's secretary that I began to have problems.

"Look, miss, I know you claim to be Ginny Weasley, but I really can't let you in," she insisted, "even if you were telling the truth. Minister Granger has a very busy schedule today and I am to understand that she already has a meeting with Miss Weasley—er, that is to say, you—at ten o'clock. So if you really are Ginny Weasley, you'll just have to wait until then."

I flopped onto one of the chairs in the waiting area. This couldn't wait, and Hermione's overly-efficient secretary was about to get stunned if she didn't quit glaring at me. Finally, an idea occurred to me. Conjuring a piece of parchment and a quill with my wand, I scribbled a note and handed it to the witch that barred my way into the Minister's office.

"Look," I said, attempting to sound pleasant- she was just doing her job, after all. "Can you please just give this to her and have her read it? She'll be able to tell from that that I really am who I say I am, and she will DEFINITELY want to see me."

"I take it you're not going to go away until I do, are you?"

I shook my head. "Security couldn't drag me out. I've got to see her, and believe me, I'd really rather not, but this is KIND of important."

She huffed, sighed, and made a huge production of aquiesance, but she took my note through the door. She returned a moment later with her arms folded across her chest and a scowl on her face.

"The Minister will see you now, miss. I hope you're happy- you've interrupted a very important floo conference with the Minister of Spain."

I rolled my eyes at her. "I'm thrilled, let me tell you. Now will you please move out of the door so I can get through?" She huffed some more, and stomped back to her desk.

Merlin, what a brat. She probably only got this job because she was Fudge's niece or something.

I stepped through the door and resisted sticking my tongue out at her back. Hermione stood up from her desk, her arms also folded across her chest.

"What do you want, Ginny? I'll have you know that everything is under perfect control, and that I do not appreciate the way you hoodwinked my secretary into giving you this meeting. I didn't need to be reminded of the shrine I built to your brother underneath my bed at Hogwarts, either. I was in a very important conference with the—"

"The Minister of Spain," I sighed. "I know."

I didn't wait for an invitation, but sat down in the suede chair opposite her desk, propping my feet up on her 'in' tray.

"Look, Hermione, you and I both know I don't want to be here, and that only the gravest situation would force me to be in your presence voluntarily." She frowned, but whether it was at my boots dripping mud on her files or at my statement, I didn't know. I didn't care, either. I had her attention. "Voldemort is following you. They're going to tail your tour for peace, or whatever it is you're doing, and try to use your look-alike Ginny to lure me out in the open so they can capture me."

"And why should I believe that?"

"Would I lie?" I asked, blatantly. She hesitated. "Or would you like me to show up in those foreign nations and show them that the girl you have posing to be me is an imposter? I'm sure that wouldn't go over very well, all those diplomats and dignitaries finding out that you lied about having my support. Because you don't."

"How did you even find out about Melinda?"

I glared at her- I had been right. She was using the bitch. "I have my ways, which, dishonest as they are, still happen to be more forthright than yours."

"You still haven't told me why I should believe you. How do I know this isn't just a stunt to make me cancel the 'Positive Parliament Peace Procession'?"

"Fine," I said, smoothly. "Don't believe me. Have fun when Melinda dies and you have a state funeral on your hands for 'Ginny Weasley- the hope of the nation'. I'll be happy to not have to pay taxes any longer, seeing as I will be legally deceased."

She frowned again, looking worried this time.

"Keep security on her, then, if you won't cancel the tour. In the meantime, I'll stay as far away from you as possible, and try to lure the Death Eaters back to London. Then you can be nice and safe, while securing your position as Minister for another year." I leaned in towards her, conversationally. "Look at that- it's like history is repeating itself. Everyone watch while Ginny puts herself in danger and Hermione runs off to save her career."

Hermione reddened. "Ginny, you KNOW that's not how I meant it. I couldn't face him- I was a hazard to myself at that time. I—I—I had nothing outside of my job. I couldn't leave it, it was my life!"

"All the more reason you should have stayed!" I spat. "You could have fought for a better life that night, but instead you left Harry for dead!"

"It kills me inside every day to know that I wasn't there, Ginny, believe me! Even if I had been there, it wouldn't have changed anything!"

"You are such a fucking LIAR, Hermione!" I cried. "You LEFT ME. By myself. You had a choice, and you know it- I can see it in your eyes!"

"If I could go back and change my decision, I WOULD!" she cried, desperately, her eyes shining with tears.

I stared back at her coldly. "I don't think you would."

"I would, Ginny, I swear I would have stayed. I swear I would have done it differently, but I can't!"

"You can. Make a decision now."

"Wh—what? I can't! There's nothing I can do- not even a time turner- and I would break so many laws if I even—"

"Join me. Fight Voldemort with me. Make someone else be Minister- hell, have your secretary do it- and come with me to take him down. After Voldemort is gone, you can always come back! The public will beg to have you back if your name is behind the death of the man who has been terrorizing them for the last fifty years!"

"But—but what if I died?"

"HERMIONE!" I cried, smacking my forehead with the palm of my hand. "It doesn't MATTER! If you take down Voldemort with you, what better way to die could you ask for?"

She shook her head. "I can't. I couldn't. No one is good enough to take my place. The entire Ministry would fall apart."

"The Ministry already IS falling apart, Granger! As long as Voldemort is alive, NO ONE is safe!"

"But we are safe," she insisted, wildly. "We haven't had an attack since I took office."

I snorted. "Yeah, because I took down thirty-seven Death Eaters the night you skived off on me, and Voldemort has been building up his forces in the meantime."

"I can't leave, Ginny. The wizarding world is depending on me to keep them safe."

"And what better way to keep them safe than to hunt down the bastard causing the problem?"

"I can't leave my job, Ginny," she sobbed. "I can't. If I could go back, maybe things would be different, but it's too late now."

"It's never to late, Hermione, and you know it."

"It's too late," she repeated, shaking her head.

"I knew it," I whispered. "I knew you would never change. If you COULD go back to that night, you would run, just like you did before. You always were a coward that would freeze up in the middle of an altercation."

"Merlin, Ginny, I feel so guilty about it. You know I do, but there's nothing I can do."

"Guilty? You feel guilty?"

"Yes. Of course I do. I feel guilty that Harry died and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

It was no use arguing with her any more. She would never understand that she COULD have done something- if she would have stayed and fought with me that night. I knew then why she had done what she did on the day I left the hospital. She transferred the wand to me, because she wanted to abolish her guilt. It was the only reminder she had of that night and her mistakes. By me taking up the wand, I took up responsibility for Harry's death- at least in her conscience. By me taking up the wand, she could be faultless, and go on making the world live in her bubble, where everything was nice and pretty and Voldemort wasn't a threat.

"Guilty," I repeated, my blood beginning to boil. "I hope you fucking CHOKE on your guilt, Hermione Jane Granger. I hope you're so consumed by it that you finally get a glimpse of what the hell is that I live in every day."

"I do live in hell! I feel guilty every—"

"Don't," I spat. "Just don't. Every word you say about how much guilt you feel makes me laugh. You had a choice, and you brought it on yourself. Choke it up, Hermione, choke it up. Keep on lying. Keep on convincing yourself that you're safe. Go on your little peace tour with Melinda and tell everyone what a great job you're doing, and have someone there posing as me to agree with you. You make me sick."

I stalked out of her office and slammed the door behind me, barely noticing Melinda sitting in the waiting room, but I did. I slowed my walk and stood in front of the chair where she sat filing her nails.

"Watch your back, Melinda. Voldemort is after me, and if you're not careful, he might get you in the process."

"Whatever," she said, waving me off. "And it's Ginny, by the way. You're just jealous that the Minister wants me to accompany her instead of you, because I'm a better public figure." She eyed me up and down. "And speaking of figure, you might want to watch yours- you're getting a little frumpy looking."

Was she serious?

"Melinda, do you realize that posing as me could cost you your LIFE? I'm not exactly on Voldemort's list of favorite people to invite over for tea!"

"I said," she repeated, standing up to walk to where Hermione was waiting in the door, looking as fresh and composed and as in control as ever, "that my name is Ginny, and I don't appreciate you pretending to be me. You're an insult to my good name. As for Voldemort, Minister Granger has everything under tight control. The wizarding world is in good hands as long as she is our leader." She rummaged in her handbag, pulled out a square of paper and scribbled on it. She then handed it to me. "There's a picture for you, I even autographed it. You can use it to model your costume off of for the next contest. And don't forget what I said about your figure- judges like a trim Ginny participant."

I gaped at her as she joined Hermione in the office, and tried to hide my shock as the secretary fawned over her, asking 'Miss Weasley' if she'd like her usual cup of tea. After the door closed, the secretary stared at me.

"Were you going to escort yourself out, or would you like me to call security?"

I snorted. "That won't be necessary. I'll show myself out gladly."

I glanced at the photo and gagged at the sight of Melinda's smiling face, waving and posing for the photographer. I crumbled it in my hand and focused my energy- a second later, it burst into flame. The secretary rushed over with her wand to scold me and put it out, so I looked her straight in the eye and disapparated—in a cloud of red smoke.

That'll show her who the REAL Ginny is, and let her know that I am NOT someone to be trifled with.

Hermione couldn't say I didn't warn her. It looked like I would have to take care of Voldemort myself.

Again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5: Not My Idea**

Hermione had taken her lackey on tour with her, leaving me to face Voldemort alone.

Wow. Like I hadn't seen THAT one coming.

I spent the next two weeks slouched in corners of manky pubs, picking up any information I could about Voldemort's exact plans, but so far I didn't find out anything that I hadn't already known. I would just have to stick to my original plan. It wasn't until the day they would burn down my parents' house that I heard any worthwhile information. I was in Knockturn Alley, with my feet propped up and my robes covered in filth, looking as best I could to be completely zonked and not get thrown out in the process. It had cost me a pretty sickle to sit there the past four hours and order firewhiskey after firewhiskey, just to transfigure it into apple juice in my glass, down it, and knock it on the table to signal the barkeep that I wanted another one.

I was getting mightily sick of apple juice.

I had been just about ready to call it quits when two likely looking blokes walked in the door and sat down two booths over. Apparently I looked drunk enough to be considered unworthy of attention.

"Caught her completely by surprise, we did," the one man said, taking a generous swig of his vodka dragonheart. (A rather disgusting drink, if you ask me, and I could tell the only reason he was drinking it was because he had a meeting with the Dark Lord tonight and was hoping to come off all cunning.) "There she was, sitting pretty in a pub in France, and she was all about talking to us since we spoke English. Told us all about how she was 'following the Minister and her body-double', but how she was looking forward to getting back home, because she felt 'the people needed her'. Quite full of herself, that Weasley girl is. Dumb as a flobberworm, too."

They had captured Melinda- the fool. I knocked my glass again, and the bartender levitated the bottle over to my table, poured me another shot, and summoned it back to the counter. This time I actually drank it- I had the feeling I would need it, where this conversation was heading.

The other wizard laughed appreciatively. "Nice arse, though. Shouldn't take much more than a silencing charm on her, then we can stare all we want and not have to be bored by her ramblings.

"We? There's no 'we' about it, Larson. Nottington and me got her, so we get her, understand?"

"'Course I do," replied the man sitting closest to me, clearly nonplussed. "That doesn't mean we can't watch though, dunnit?"

His companion laughed cruelly. "Cheers to that, right you are."

They rambled on for the next half hour or so about all the things they would do to Melinda (i.e. me) later that night. It was disgusting, the way their minds worked. If I had the chance, I would remember to castrate them at the most opportune moment. Their fantasies were interrupted not much later (thank Merlin) by two more of their companions entering the pub. I knocked for another shot- this could get interesting.

"A round on me," said one bloke cheerfully, "we're here to celebrate!"

"So you heard I got her, right?"

"Got who?" asked the other newcomer.

"The Weasley wench. Got her in France… well, Nottington helped a bit, but not much. It was my idea, see?"

The first man who had ordered the round laughed. "That's impossible. You can't have got her- because we JUST got her. This afternoon, inside that stupid shop where she buys her clothes."

"Rather tarty little skirt she had on, too- I wanted to take her right there," added the other newcomer- this one had a rather large burn scar across his cheek, I noticed. I wondered how far down it went, or if I should do him the courtesy of extending it for him.

"Wait a minute," asked the one man who had so far not claimed to have 'got me'. "You mean to say that YOU captured her in France, trailing after the Minister and the look-alike, with Nottington, right Mackey?"

"'Sright."

"And YOU mean to say that you two JUST got her in the trollop shop, not an hour ago?"

"Didn't we just say that?" asked the first man, rather heatedly.

"So we have two girls in custody, right now?"

"Right," said the other three together, then glared at one another.

The outsider choked on his whiskey as he laughed. "Boy, am I glad I'm not any of you sods. One of them is obviously a fake, and I wouldn't want to be in whosever robes tonight that brought in the wrong wench."

The other three men paled, paid their tabs, and ran from the pub, leaving their last companion howling with laughter over his drink. I knocked for another whiskey (drank that one, as well) paid my bill, and stumbled out (rather gracefully, too, I think, seeing as I wasn't drunk at all). They had captured Melinda, who was still insisting to be me, the real Ginny Weasley, while also letting people know that her true identity, Melinda whatever-her-surname-is, was her (Ginny's—mine—ARRRHHH!) body double.

Even after I warned her, too. She really was as dumb as a flobberworm.

As for the other girl, I gave myself three guesses as to who that could be, although I really only needed one. I prayed to Merlin it wasn't Shamra, but I couldn't help but feel in my heart that it was. My only hope was that I could get them both out alive- Merlin only knew what Voldemort would do to them once he found out they weren't me. After all, it was me he wanted alive- he would have no qualms about torturing them to death.

I apparated home and began to prepare myself. I hopped in the shower and mentally went over my checklist for that night- there was plenty of room for error, but it would only make me more cautious. I had plenty of time before the meeting would begin, and I knew I couldn't show up until after it started- while the majority of Death Eaters were locked inside, I would be able to maneuver myself to just outside the door, and break my way in at the appropriate time.

Okay, okay- so it WAS overdramatic, but could you blame me?

I set up my escape plan, checked and double-checked my supplies, and I was ready to go. Voldemort would have no idea what hit him after I was finished with him tonight.

It was just after midnight when I apparated just outside Voldemort's wards. I donned Harry's invisibility cloak just to make it to the front door, before I pulled it off and nearly scared the piss out of the guard.

"Hello," I said, brightly, as I stepped up behind him and held my wand to his throat. "So sorry I'm late- _Considere_!" He slumped instantly against me, and I cursed him with a full body bind to make him rigid enough to prop against the door.

Poor bastard. He had no idea what hit him.

I let myself into the house as I stuffed the invisibility cloak into one of my inside pockets. I wanted to fight fair, and I didn't think adding invisibility to my already stunning repertoire would be in the spirit of honorable confrontation. If they were too stupid to be attentive in their guard duty, all the better for me, but honestly, I liked a challenge. It would warm me up for Voldemort. I came upon the next guard, and disposed of him in the same way I had the first- by slicing open his jugular vein with the same spell I used to cut my vegetables. It was clean (relatively- but the black robes hid most of the blood), and I could do this spell nonverbally. Silence was a wonderful thing to have on your side when your odds are inconceivable amounts to one. I had tried to perform an Avada Kedavra curse on a spider I found under my bed, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, let alone attempt it silently.

Besides, what had the spider done to me?

So I stuck with my household charm. It was quick and effective- why should I bother with an Unforgivable and risk the Ministry being able to track it when I had another perfectly good way to get rid of scum? I made my way through the entire ground floor, and even checked the lavatory- there had been two in there, although I definitely caught them by surprise. It was easy to do, considering the compromising position they had been in. But I didn't want to think about that just now… or ever, really. I had bigger grindylows to grill.

I carefully made my way up the grand staircase, hearing voices coming from one of the side bedrooms- the door was closed and unguarded, so I rummaged through my cloak after I made sure the coast was clear. Slipping the device under the door, I sealed the cracks with a sound and airtight caulk I had gotten from George some years previously. Based on the number of voices I had heard emanating through the door, I estimated I would need to wait almost ten minutes for the sleeping gas to take effect.

It was a long ten minutes, during which time I engaged in another silent battle with a woman that was attempting to return to the room from the toilet. She shot a nasty stinging hex at me before I hit her with my stunner- but in the end I got her for that. When I heard what I presumed to be the last body drop to the floor, I opened the door and took care of the seven other masked figures the same way I had taken care of the other nine on the ground floor. It made no sense to leave them behind to wake up.

It seemed the house was clear, so I made my way to the room whose window I had eavesdropped from the two weeks previously- it had been the largest, so I estimated that Voldemort would hold larger meetings there. I only hoped that they hadn't gotten to Shamra and Melinda yet. It had been nearly forty-five minutes; I was probably cutting it close. Stashing the two bodies that had been left to guard the door (miserable job, they'd done), I scourgified one of their masks and donned it myself, just in case there should be a latecomer to the meeting. I had made quick but efficient work of hiding all the bodies, but one could never tell when Voldemort might actually take someone intelligent into his fold. I shoved an extendable in my ear and watched it slither under the corner of the door. The door had been silenced, but not imperturbed, so I had been lucky there. What I heard was not the tortured screams of Shamra and Melinda, but the soft, almost reasonable tones of Lord Voldemort, backed by the whiney tones of my least favorite impersonator..

"—Weasley see our demands as reasonable. We shall take the girls to her parents' house in Ottery St. Catchpole and stake them on the lawn there for her to find—"

"When Minister Granger finds out about this, she is NOT going to be happy! She'll have every Auror out looking for me- we're best friends!"

"When Weasley comes to see the demise of the Burrow and save the imposters, we will surround her—"

"That will never work, I'm standing right here and I know your plan!"

"—We will surround the REAL Weasley, and take her by surprise."

"I keep telling you, I AM Ginny Weasley!" Melinda yelled. "Why don't you just negotiate with me? I can get the Minister to agree to any of your demands!"

I heard Voldemort sigh. "Who were the imbeciles that brought this tiresome girl to me under the grievous impression that she was the real Weasley?"

I heard what could only be Nottington and Mackey step forward. "It was us, my Lord Voldemort. Surely you can see that she is most convincing."

"Crucio!" Voldemort spat, and the screaming began, only to be stopped shortly after, and then resumed again on what I could only assume to be the other member of the guilty party. "Surely," he stated coldly, after he had finished, "you can see that she is obviously NOT the real wench, because the real Weasley would never claim to be in good standing with our dear Minister of Magic."

I could still hear the stifled gasps of Mackey and Nottington on the floor as Voldemort began to address the other members of the meeting. "And surely, we can all see that the other young lady, as much as she may LOOK like Miss Weasley, was telling the truth from the beginning- even as you took her from the shop, she told you her name was Shamra."

Bugger. Bugger, bugger, BUGGER!

"But, my Lord Voldemort," insisted another Death Eater, this one I remember as the man who ordered the round in the pub- Larson. "Of course Weasley would lie and say she was someone else if she thought it meant her freedom! It MUST be her!"

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort bellowed, and Larson's screams nearly burst my eardrum. "Do not lie to me to make up for your incompetence! Weasley is a LITTLE GIRL, I do not understand how she can be giving you so many problems!" Larson continued to holler for quite some time after Voldemort removed the curse.

"Now," he continued, as if he had just gotten up to close the window shade and not tortured a man for nearly thirty minutes, "since we all know how much I enjoy hearing the truth, why don't I ask Miss McCloud, seeing as she is the only one here who has not lied to me?"

I could almost feel the shame radiating from the other Death Eaters in the room. I heard Melinda whimper, but I knew that Shamra would hold strong.

"Now, Miss McCloud, where is Miss Weasley hiding?"

"I—I don't know!" Shamra squeaked.

"Are you SURE?" Voldemort pressed, softly.

Merlin, Shamra! Don't look him in the eye! He would rape her mind for ANYTHING she had heard about me- even my O.P. box in London would make him happy.

"I swear, I don't know!" she repeated, her voice wavering.

"Yes, yes… I can see you don't lie. Very good, girl, you would do well to keep telling Lord Voldemort the truth- isn't that RIGHT, you worthless pieces of dragon dung?"

"Yes, my Lord," came a chorus of subdued voices.

"Now," Voldemort hissed, "we need to lure Weasley out of hiding. She is the last key to Potter, and the only thing standing between me and the Ministry, and consequently, the world. She may hate the Mudblood, but she'll still protect her. Her lover is dead, her entire family is dead, and her best friend betrayed her- it's no wonder the baby died at birth, he knew she would be hopeless."

Oh no- he did NOT just go there. Exavier was NOT something anyone talked about around me. He would pay for that.

"We leave now, and we torch the entire village where she grew up! Someone will know how to reach her, and when she shows up to save the girls, we'll surround her and take her by surprise. I want her, and I want her ALIVE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Now was the time. I ripped the mask from my face and blasted the door open in front of me.

"Looking for me?" I asked pleasantly, enjoying the look of utter consternation and shock on Voldemort's face.

"Weasley!" he cried, composing himself immediately. "How kind of you to drop in."

"Don't mention it," I said, eyeing my bearings around the room- I was outnumbered ten to one, excluding Voldemort, but I knew he wanted me alive. I had time.

The Death Eaters didn't dare break their semicircle, so I made my way around the room to where Shamra and Melinda were tied standing back to back.

"So sorry I'm late, by the way. My my, these girls really do look like me, don't they?" I gently moved Shamra's hair from her eyes and straightened the strap of her shirt, which had been falling precariously down her shoulder- I gave her a subtle wink as I turned back to Voldemort. "This one's breasts are too perky, though—it's a wonder they didn't notice from the start and leave her where she was. Ah, well, I suppose I can't claim to understand the logic of your servants' minds. As for this one—" I circled to where Melinda was, looked at the cheap imitation of my dragon pendant she had around her neck, and clucked my tongue at her before I turned to frown at Voldemort. "—Annoying little witch, isn't she?"

"You have no idea," Voldemort replied through gritted teeth.

"Oh believe me- I do. So here's my offer for you, Tom- let them go, and I will let you live for another day."

Voldemort tossed his head back and laughed- it sent shivers down my spine. Him and laughter did NOT belong together in the same sentence; it was just too much of an oxymoron.

"YOU will let ME live?" he spat. "I don't know who you fucked to get into this room, Weasley, but you can be sure you're surrounded."

"You mean other than the ten lackeys you've got in here?" I asked, waving my finger at the still motionless Death Eaters. "Or did you mean the nine on the ground floor? Or possibly the seven I found holed up in a room upstairs? Or maybe even the one that I obliterated that was coming back from the toilet?"

I could see his face reddening as he did the math, I lowered my nose at him. "Oh, I guess you did. Looks like you might have underestimated me when you called me a stupid little girl, huh?"

He glared at me- it looked like it was time to make my exit.

"A little mouse, someone that didn't even register on your radar, perhaps? Thought you could take me by surprise by burning down my parents' house?"

"You ARE a stupid little girl, Weasley, if standing here tossing insults my way was the best strategy you could come up with."

I yawned. "No. Not really. You see, I've got plenty of plans for you, most of which have nothing to do with what I've already done here tonight. Looks like the stupid girl is the one who caught YOU by surprise, Tom."

"You're still outnumbered, Weasley, and your little Weaslettes over there won't be much good for fighting if I kill them."

With a rather large sucking sound and a satisfying pop, Melinda and Shamra disappeared- I couldn't have timed the portkeys I had hidden on them any better.

"Oh," I cried, feigning surprise. "Look at that- seems like my Weaslettes didn't feel like sticking around to see the fireworks. And it's too bad; really, they're going to be great."

I could feel the anger radiating from Voldemort's red eyes. I continued.

"Yeah, you thought I would be surprised? Huh. And now look, here I am- burning down your house."

"What?"

"Your mistake, Tom. You should have killed me that night, but you didn't. Really, I think we both would have been better off. That little coma you put me in distracted me for quite some time, but I woke up, and now I'm back to haunt you."

He glared at me.

"The portkeys that took Shamra and Melinda out of here were connected to a system of instant bonfires placed strategically around your mansion, all set to go off in five-second intervals. If I'm not mistaken, the one I placed outside the door should be going off right… about… now!"

I hastily erected a shield to block the blast, set off my now trademark red smoke, and activated my portkey- it would take me outside the wards and seventy-five feet in the air- high enough to give me time to enlarge my broomstick, and far enough away where I would be able to see my arson in all it's burning inferno glory.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and the screams of the Death Eaters inside made me laugh. I could hear Lord Voldemort over them all, cursing my name into oblivion as I rode my broom off into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6: A Stroke of Luck**

My mission had been a success- Voldemort was pissed. Not only had I killed seventeen of his Death Eaters, I had torched his house with him still in it.

I think that gave brand new definition to the phrase 'adding insult to injury'.

I decided to treat myself to some ice cream. I wondered what flavor of ice cream Exavier liked, or if he even liked ice cream. I didn't know and it made me kind of sad. Even if I didn't want to be a mother, it didn't mean that I wouldn't have liked being an aunt. But George was in America, and Charlie was in France. I didn't know if either of them had children. Hell, I never heard back from them after I sent my warning- it made me wonder if they had even been alive to receive it.

The streets of Diagon Alley were crowded this morning, but I decided to walk with my frozen Chinese Fireball Parfait anyway. It was possible that I might be able to pick up some news, so I wandered rather aimlessly, with no real itinerary. As I passed the steps of the Ministry of Magic, I noticed that the podium had been brought back out.

Great. Another worthless speech by the Minister of Infidelity.

It had been two weeks since I had breached Voldemort's wards- what could she possibly have to say? I took a seat on a bench across the street, where I would be away from the crowd, but still within visual and audio range. I wasn't surprised to see Hermione appear with her dozens of bodyguards a few moments later but Melinda- now her I was surprised to see. My ears perked up instinctively. Whatever would come out of her mouth would NOT be good for me. Hermione's address to the crowd began, and I listened with my breath held tight.

"A fortnight ago, Lord Voldemort kidnapped two young girls, suspecting them both to be impersonators of Ginny Weasley," she began, speaking loudly, calmly and clearly- the perfect ministerial address, even if it wasn't entirely accurate. "He held them for ransom inside his lair, in hopes to draw Weasley out of hiding to save them. What he did not realize, though, was that one girl who he only thought to be a look-alike, was in fact the real Ginny Weasley."

I snorted. Whoops. There we go- the line of the truth has been passed, let us now commence with the lies.

"Ginny has kindly agreed to speak with us this afternoon and address what exactly went on that night. Ginny, if you please…"

Melinda took timid steps forward toward the podium, where she then straightened and opened her mouth to address the crowd.

"Thank you, Minister Granger. It's true, I was there that night, and it was due to my quick thinking that the other young girl- who could not be here today due to still being in shock over the whole incident- was—"

"LIAR!" screamed someone from the thick of the crowd. "You backstabbing, hypocritical, cowardly, two-faced LIAR!"

Woah. Someone obviously had a grievance with Melinda—well, somebody other than myself. The crowd parted and the lone figure made its way up to the podium. I stood on my bench so I could get a clearer look.

Great Merlin- it was Shamra!

"If you're the real Ginny Weasley," she yelled, forgetting to amplify her voice with her wand, "then I'm Harry sodding Potter!"

She made the adjustment quickly, and turned to face the crowd. "I WAS the other girl there that night, and I can tell you that the only reason I wasn't here to properly address you this afternoon was because I wasn't invited. The Minister didn't want the truth to be leaked out about what happened between Voldemort and Ginny that night."

"Right," butted in Melinda, trying unsuccessfully to shove Shamra away from the podium, "and that's why I'm here today, to tell you all what happened. Voldemort held this poor girl and I, Ginny Weas—"

"LIAR!" taunted Shamra once again. "This girl talking to you right now did nothing more to further our escape than whimper and badger Lord Voldemort into a temper!"

"Who the ruddy hell are you?" yelled a distraught reporter, scribbling out his previous notes.

"I'm Shamra McCloud, and I'm here to stop this fraud's charade once and for all. If the REAL Ginny Weasley wouldn't have shown up that night, we would have died! The girl standing here claiming to be Ginny Weasley was held captive with me! This girl," she cried, pointing her wand at Melinda, causing Hermione's bodyguards to back off, "is a swindler- she's been parading around with the Minister claiming to be Ginny and making statements on Ginny's behalf without the REAL Ginny's consent. Her name is Melinda Beckwith and she's nothing more than an imposter seeking a claim to fame behind Ginny's good name!"

"Where's the REAL Ginny, then?" someone yelled. "Why isn't she here telling us this herself?"

I sighed. It looked like I had no choice. I pulled my broom from my pocket, enlarged it, hopped on, and cast the sonorous charm on my throat.

"I'm right here!" I called, from ten feet above their heads.

"Ginny!" cried Shamra. "Oy, am I glad to see you!"

I nodded to her. "If you want the truth, you've got it. Voldemort's Death Eaters captured Shamra and Melinda, and I DID come to their aid that night. After I made sure they were safely evacuated, I burnt his hellhole to the ground, along with him and at least seventeen of his Death Eaters inside. From what I could gather as I left he was rather pissed at me, and I imagine rightfully so. It's only a matter of time before he will seek revenge.

"Now, why don't you all go home and think about what you're going to do to protect yourself from Voldemort, since the Minister and her con artist obviously aren't doing it for you?"

I dropped a cloud of red smoke beneath me and sped off on my broom down the alley. Merlin, what would it take for these people to start thinking for them— what the hell was going on! I was losing altitude, and fast. My broom must have been hit. I looked below me- there were at least a dozen Death Eaters waiting for me to fall. Another blast hit my broom and I lost control. I hit the ground, but didn't lose consciousness. They were on me before I knew it. Two held my arms while another immobilized my legs and silenced me.

"So the Master said he wanted the wench alive, did he?" one sneered from beneath his hood.

"Right," agreed another. "But…"

"But what?"

"He never said what kind of condition he wanted her in."

There was a chorus of cruel laughter as they rolled up the sleeves of their robes. The leader came toward me and kicked me in the stomach. I doubled over in a silenced groan.

"THAT was for burning down our Master's house." He punched me across the face, breaking my nose and spattering blood to the alley floor. "And THAT is for insulting our Master." He punched me seventeen more times around the face, chest, and head. I felt several of my ribs crack inside my torso and my brain slam against the inside of my skull, all while the sickening pop of my jaw being dislocated sounded through the alley. "And those—those are for all our comrades that you torched." He took a few steps away before he turned around and slapped me hard across the face. "And that's just for being a trollop bitch."

I was going to die. And it was going to come about by a sound thrashing from some of Voldemort's underlings. It was a sad way to go.

"Wands ready, lads?" he jeered to his chortling mates. "CRUCIO!"

The door to Healer McHartley's office opened with a soft woosh, and through it stepped a young Australian woman, somewhere in her mid twenties. She made her way quickly and efficiently to her head Healer's desk, deposited the new medical paperwork she had just filled out on the latest of her patients she had released and turned around, preparing to leave for her next errand. What she found instead of a clear path and an open door to the hallway was a mangled body with a shock of red hair bleeding on her boss' carpet.

"Who in the blazes is THAT?" She swore, clutching her hand to her chest in a frightened panic, and rushed around to check. One look at the pendant with the fading blue nimbus haloing it around the victim's neck told her all she needed to know, and she ran hollering down the hall for her head of department.

Throwing the door to trauma ward seven open in front of her, the young witch gasped for breath as she made her way to the bedside her head of department was standing at, evaluating a patient.

"Healer McHartley, I need you to come with me straight away," she said as calmly as she could while she panted for breath.

"Emily, can it wait? Mr. Jacks has been waiting a long time to see me this afternoon, haven't you Mr. Jacks?" Mr. Jacks barked unintelligibly.

Emily wiped her forehead on the sleeve of her mediwitch's robes. "I'm sorry to persist, Healer, but it's a case 757."

Healer McHartley straightened up from her ministrations and Mr. Jacks started growling and barking again. "Say that again, Emily, please, I'm not sure I heard you correctly."

"A 757, ma'am."

Healer McHartley dropped her wand. Stooping quickly to pick it up, she then pointed it at a waiting mediwizard in the corner. "You- see what you can do for Mr. Jacks. Emily- my office, post haste." She apparated there in an instant, with Emily right behind her.

Pressing a knot on the bookshelf, Healer McHartley stood back as it swung open, revealing a large private hospital room, sterilized to perfection but with a few homey touches added to make Emily feel that it would be used for a long term care patient. Healer McHartley carefully levitated the young woman's body into the room and onto the bed. Waving her wand over it in several series of intricate motions, Emily could do nothing but stand back and watch. She handed her favorite Head warm moist towels so the blood could be wiped from the girl's head, face, neck, chest and arms, and then prepared the hospital robes, socks and slippers. As Emily silently changed the poor woman's clothing, Healer McHartley set the spells for continuous observation, potion drip, alarms, and muscle stimulation. Emily waved her wand over the tattered robes the woman had arrived in, cleaned them and repaired what she could of the damage, folded them, and hung them inside a small wardrobe by the secret bookcase entrance. Then she waited. Healer McHartley had conjured a chair and was sitting by the woman's bedside, holding her hand and muttering to herself, her eyes filled with tears.

"Healer McHartley?" Emily began, timidly. "Um, Healer?" Still no response. "Elsa?"

"Hmmm?"

"Who is she? Will she be all right?"

Elsa smiled bitterly. "She's Ginny Weasley."

Emily gasped. "The British witch whose quotes and pictures are all over the press statements from their Ministry?" She had read those articles and, unlike her mediwitch colleagues, she hadn't thought much of the girl the paper had depicted. Rather showy and uppity, really, almost somewhat tarty, if she had to make an opinion.

Elsa shook her head. "No- this is the REAL Ginny Weasley. The one in the press is a look alike used by the British Minister of Magic because the real Ginny doesn't support her actions against Voldemort… well, lack of actions, really. Anything you've read is most likely the exact opposite of what the real Ginny right here would actually say."

Emily paused. It looked like what was going on in Britain was lot more complicated than her boss had let on when she started at Australia's Apothecarictic Medical Institute for Magical Injuries some six months previously. "Will she be all right?"

A single tear fell down Elsa's cheek. "Oh, Ginny," she sighed, more to herself than anyone else, "what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

I was falling. That was the first conscious thought that occurred to me after I didn't know how long. I could feel wind rushing softly beneath me, and I fell for I don't know how long before it suddenly stopped. And then I was floating. I let my consciousness fall back into the welcoming darkness.

Floating. A stagnant position of warmth, happiness, and soundlessness. It was wonderful. I vaguely remembered hearing sounds before this moment, and I recalled ignoring them all. A gentle zephyr played across my face and I turned my head towards the warmer of the two suns. Everything was calm- perfect- unlike my previous lifestyle. I didn't know how long I had been floating, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I could stay here forever, and nothing was here to stop me.

Except him.

"Harry," I whispered.

He was walking towards me across the void, an empty soft white spherical void where I had been completely alone moments before, and yet now there he was, not the length of a Quidditch pitch away. He had on a long, pale colored tunic in the shade of white sand with a v-neck that tied at the top, loose cotton trousers in the same hue, and bare feet. Every step he took toward me, the more beautiful he became.

I whispered out to him again. "Harry."

"Hey, Gin," he whispered back, smiling that lop-sided smile of his. "Come with me?"

I took his hand. What else could I have done? He brought me down from my levitated position, and even though my feet were now touching the ground, I still felt as high as I had a moment before.

"Am I dead?" I asked, looking sideways at him and taking in the brilliant contrast of his warm clothing and cold black hair.

"No, Gin. You're not dead, you're just… here."

I snuggled closer to his arm. "I'm here," I whispered. "Here with you, Harry. That's all I need to know. No wonder I felt so safe."

A door appeared out of nowhere in front of us and Harry opened it, stepped through, and offered his hand to me. I took it and immediately closed the door behind me. As soon as it sealed, it disappeared with a soft 'pop', shutting away from me the empty white world for what I presumed would be forever.

But I didn't care. I had Harry.

I basked in the beauty of the ocean before me. I relished the feel of the soft white sand on my feet. I sank into the softness of the ivory sari that adorned my body. But most of all, I showered myself in the love that radiated to me from Harry's aura.

We sat, stood, walked, danced, ran, tripped, rolled, and laughed on that beach together for hours, the suns holding their positions high in the sky the entire time. It was the most perfect day in my life.

And yet the thought that it would (or could) end never occurred to me.

"You came for me, Harry," I said, entwining my fingers with his. "I always knew you would."

He shook his head. "I WILL come for you, Ginny. But not yet."

"What do you mean, you 'will come' for me? Why are you here now, then, if you're just going to leave me again?" I was getting upset, and Harry knew it, so he pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me and tangling his hands in my sari.

"I died with you that day, Harry," I whispered, my breath tickling his ear and my hair whipping around us in the breeze.

"I know, Gin. By all rights, you should have. But apparently they've got plans for you, yet. They're not ready for you."

"I don't care," I said, adamantly. "I'm tired. I've had enough. I want to go. You said so yourself- by all accounts, I should have died with you that night when the ceiling fell on me."

"The world needs you, Gin," he said softly, tucking a random strand of my hair behind my ear.

"Sod the world!" I cried. "Since when have they ever done anything for me? I've been on the karma payment plan my entire life, Harry, and look where it's gotten me! My entire family is dead, except for George and Bill, but for all I know they could be dead, too! You're gone- Voldemort killed you right in front of my very eyes. Hermione betrayed me—she betrayed YOU, Harry! How can you be so calm? Because of her, Exavier doesn't even know me, and he probably never will! There's nothing left for me!"

"Exavier, Gin. Our son. Isn't he worth going back for?"

"I don't—"

I couldn't say it. I could lie to the rest of the world and to myself all I wanted, but I could never lie to Harry. I couldn't tell him that I didn't want to be a mother when I was never entirely sure of the statement's truth in the first place.

"I don't know," I finished lamely. "I just don't know anything anymore, Harry."

He kissed my forehead. "We never did know much, Gin. All we had were instincts. Instincts and desire. You've got to finish what I've started—what YOU'VE started, Gin."

"But—but what if I don't want to?" I managed, biting my lip.

Harry laughed, a warm, throaty laugh that I only had heard a few times in his life. It was my favorite sound in the world. "Can you honestly tell me that, Ginny? Look inside yourself, and see if there isn't a part of you that wants to have the revenge on Voldemort you deserve."

I did. And that part of me was so massive I didn't know how I had been ignoring it.

"You're right, Harry. You always are."

Another door had appeared in front of us, and this time Harry opened it and stood aside, making way for me to cross through it on my own. I stopped just before the threshold and turned back to him.

"Don't worry, Ginny my love. I'll come for you. I promise."

He kissed me and I lost my footing, falling backwards through the doorway. I saw Harry's face looming above me with a soft, reassuring smile. He would be back for me- he had promised.

I was falling again.

I fell for what must have been miles, and then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. I closed my eyes and opened them again only to find myself on a comfortable bed in a private room painted pale green, with fresh flowers and spring-themed tapestries. I sat up and looked around me, my gaze falling on a young witch with brown hair, blue eyes, and a kind smile. She was updating what I could only guess must have been my medical charts.

"Ginny," she lilted softly, he Scottish brogue having been diluted from living in Australia. "I'm so glad that you're awake."

"Elsa?" I choked.

She nodded, and approached the bed where I was sitting. Instead of taking a place at the chair next to its head, she sat right down on the comforter next to me and pulled me into a hug. She smoothed my hair and passed her wand over a small sensor on my bedside table. A few moments later I heard what must have been her assistant come into the room.

"Please bring Miss Weasley some tea," she requested, softly, "and make sure no one knows to whom you are bringing it."

"Of course, Healer McHartley, right away." Somehow, I recognized her voice. She stepped closer to the bed so I could see her face. "I'm Emily, Miss Weasley, I'm a mediwitch here at Australia's Apothcarictic Medical Institute for Magical Injuries. I've been helping Healer McHartley take care of you when she's had to be with other patients. I'm very glad to see you're awake, Miss Weasley, and I hope you'll be ready for physical therapy soon." She winked. "I'm sure there are several things that you'd rather be doing than sitting in a hospital bed."

She turned and left, and I nodded at her back. It looked like Elsa had picked a trusted soul and told her everything she needed to know. I trusted Elsa and so in turn, I trusted Emily.

"How long?" I whispered.

"Nine months," Elsa replied. "Emily has been very helpful. It's due to her, I believe, that you even woke up this soon. She spent hours in here with you, even when she didn't have to. She talked to you, told you stories, read the British tabloids to you so you could laugh with her over the mess Minister Granger is making of things. She's wonderful, and has been a great help to me in keeping this secret. I couldn't have cared for you and kept up my head duties without her. Keeping the secret has been difficult, but I knew it would be what you wanted, and I have trusted her from the moment I started here. She's being promoted next week for her efforts."

I nodded. "Nine months?" I whispered again.

Elsa nodded, stroking my hair. "Got yourself into a right state this time, didn't you? How did you manage to get here? You were in no condition to apparate, obviously, seeing as you arrived unconscious."

My hand strayed to the dragon pendant around my neck. Draco had given it to me what I calculated to be something like fourteen months ago. I didn't think I would have ever needed it, and had forgotten about it that day in the alley when Voldemort's Death Eaters attacked me.

"My pendant. After Draco gave it to me I programmed it to take me here. It's a portkey, yes, but my own special version that would only activate if I were to be unconscious for longer than five minutes. My guess is that they beat me soundly and continued to do so after I passed out."

Elsa laughed. "I bet they were surprised when you disappeared without a trace."

"I imagine so. I'm sorry, Elsa. I didn't think I would ever have to use it. What's been happening? I couldn't have just laid here for nine months and then all of a sudden woke up."

"You were hallucinating the past few days," she explained. "That's how Emily knew to come get me to observe you. Are you all right?"

I nodded briefly. "I wasn't hallucinating. I was dreaming, I think, if anything. It felt to real even for a dream, though. Harry came to me. He's the one that convinced me to come back."

"Harry? Oh, Harry. Well, you're certainly back now, aren't you?"

I nodded again. "Oh, Elsa. Everything was so beautiful. Harry was beautiful. I didn't want to go. But he told me Exavier was still here. Exavier was the only thing I had left. I—I don't think I would have come back otherwise."

"Do you want to see him?"

"What? Who?"

"Exavier."

Elsa stood up and walked over to the table where my medical charts were sitting. Picking up a photograph, she brought it over to the bed so I could see. It was Exavier at his first birthday party, blowing out the candle on his cake and then proceeding to stick his face in it. I laughed softly, lightly touching my finger to his cake-smudged photograph face. It was January now; he would be sixteen months old.

"Here's another one, just sent last week. He's rather smart looking when he's clean."

It was my son, riding on a broomstick with whom I presumed to be Elsa's cousin holding tightly to him so he wouldn't fall off. He was screaming with laughter and looked to be enjoying every second of it.

"He's so beautiful," I choked, holding back my tears. "He looks just like Harry."

"Aye, but he has your nose and ears. He's perfect, Ginny."

"Perfect," I repeated, and I began to sob. Elsa sat next to me on my bed and held me as I whimpered. I bawled for my baby. I howled for Harry. I wept for my family.

And I cried for myself.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7: Vow**

I stayed with Elsa and Emily in the hospital for nearly six months before I was able to go out on my own. It took everything I had not to apparate to India and call the whole thing off. Emily did most of my physical therapy since Elsa was so busy, but I didn't mind. We had become something like friends while I had been at the hospital- she was only a year older than myself.

After I was released from their care, Emily invited me to stay at her flat for a few weeks while she went on holiday so I could mind her cat and prepare myself for heading back to England. It was terribly kind of her, so while I was there I cleaned up for her. I noticed that in her kitchen she had several wizard catalogues where she had marked up the pages with ideas for redecorating when she got the giltneys. I didn't have an Australian knamt to my name, but I had a vault back in Diagon Alley filled to bursting with galleons, sickles, and knuts that had been doing nothing but gaining interest for the past year and I knew exactly what I should do with them. I had to hand it to Emily. She had excellent taste in home décor, even if she didn't have the gold to make her dreams come to life. She had given me my life back- it was the least I could do.

I flooed over to Elsa's house and proposed the idea to her, and she helped me pick through the catalogues and expedite ship all the new furnishings and accessories to Emily's flat. We decorated it together in what we thought would be the way that Emily would want it, based from the drawings and clippings she had stored in a folder with all the other catalogues. I bought Emily an ornate trunk and had it sent from India, so she would remember me. I placed it in her living room underneath the window and surrounded it by tropical pot plants native to the Persian area, which she had wanted to theme this room after. Her kitchen was bright and clean- all it needed was a new table, dishes, and linen, so I bought those in the classic British style. Her bedroom was beach themed, with a large window that I charmed to have a view of a non-existent ocean. Her bathroom I expanded and installed an old-fashioned tub with claw feet, and then I stocked her linen closet with fresh towels and scented soaps. I shrank all her old furniture and packed it carefully away in labeled boxes, so if she wanted, needed, or liked it better than what I had picked out from her marked catalogues, she would be able to change at will. I also left the receipts labeled in the folder, so she could return whatever she wanted if she decided she didn't like it.

I left a few hours before she was due to return home. I didn't want her to thank me- I didn't feel I deserved to be thanked. Merlin knew I could never thank her enough to repay her for saving my life that day when she found me in Elsa's office. It made me feel rather good about myself to return the favor that she had bestowed upon me. It was cheap in comparison to gaining my life back.

England was cold and rainy, just the way I had left it. The populace was also still singing Hermione's praises, just the way they had been when I sped off on my broom that day last May.

The idiots.

I stopped by my O.P. box in London and magically sorted my mail. It didn't take long considering all I did was scan for any cards sent from India (there were none, not surprisingly, considering I hadn't let Elsa tell her cousin who Exavier's mother really was, but I couldn't help but check) and any from Shamra McCloud. There were three letters from Shamra, the first was dated two years previous, from shortly after Harry and I ransacked Voldemort's original hideout. It was a typical fan letter, but it was still nice to read. The second was from not long after I met her at the festival a year before, when she had met me for the first time while I was pretending to be a regular witch masquerading as myself. This one was much more interesting, and told me how much she admired my courage and was thankful that I had side-tracked the Death Eaters so no one would get hurt. She also told me that her eyes were really green, and ever since she had stopped charming them to look brown, and that though people still stopped her on the street thinking she was me, she told them the truth- that her name was Shamra, and she was perfectly content being a McCloud. I laughed when I read about how stupid she felt for dressing up like me in the first place, and how at the same time she was mad at herself for not recognizing me (the real Ginny) the moment she saw me. The letter was all Shamra, and it endeared her to me even more. The final piece of parchment spoke of the last time I had seen her, the day I had been attacked on a side street of Diagon Alley. It had been sent nearly six months after that day (and almost nine months before today), but the bitterness of the letter made me feel as if I had just left the Alley.

Shamra wrote and told me that, although she knew I would never reply, she wanted to let me know that she wished I were here. That Hermione had somehow salvaged the situation to make herself, the Ministry and Melinda look good, and that now wherever she went she was still mistaken to be me, but she knew that when people said "Ginny Weasley" they really meant "Melinda Beckwith", and she was rather offended. She had attempted to dye her hair, but this only made her stand out more, on top of 'looking stupid'. She thanked me for saving her life, but jokingly asked why I didn't consider leaving Melinda behind.

Believe me, I had.

She wanted to know that she knew I had disappeared, even if the rest of the public didn't, because Voldemort was up to his old tricks again. She had sent a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ from three months after the Diagon Alley incident, which reported the permanent institutionalization and insanity of Percy due to torture from the Cruciatus Curse.

Not that I had spoken with Percy since my fourth year at Hogwarts, but it still hurt.

I tucked the letters inside my cloak and headed out into the frosty January air. I had purposely hopped around Australia for a few days so I would miss the festival honoring my and Harry's 'victory' over Lord Voldemort. I had no desire to partake in that sham of a celebration again, information possibilities notwithstanding. I checked the return address on Shamra's envelopes and apparated to the street outside the house she lived in, at least according to the letter.

A kind looking woman opened the door when I knocked and invited me in from the cold. She took my cloak and with a wave of her wand she dried it and hung it up by the fireplace so it would be warm when I left. A truly thoughtful gesture on her behalf, I thought, seeing as she didn't even know me.

"Shamra, honey," she called, "someone's here to see you!" A few minutes later, Shamra came down the stairs. I stood up to greet her.

"Hi, can I—Holy Merlin, Father of Sorcery!"

"Shamra!" cried the woman, I presumed her to be Shamra's mother. "Where on Earth did you learn to speak like that? And in front of a guest!"

Shamra gaped first at me, then at her mother. "Mum, do you have any idea who this is?"

Mrs. McCloud looked me over and shrugged. "Not really, sweetheart. She said she was a friend of yours."

I guessed she deemed my black turtle necked wool sweater, skirt and tights acceptable, because she added, "She looks a lot like how Melinda is wearing her clothes these days- black looks nice on you, dear- although not trollopy like Mel. I don't know how Melinda wears those heeled boots, but your friend here has on some nice sensible shoes."

"MUM!" Shamra cried.

"Well, dear, it's true. I'm rather glad you're not friends with Mel any longer, especially since she's been impersonating that poor Weasley girl." She turned to look at me. "I'm sure you've read about her- the poor thing- all she wants to do is retire, and Merlin knows the public won't let her, what with her ties to Harry Potter- the sad soul, I hope he can rest in peace." She sighed. "But that Ginny girl just wants a quiet life and I can't blame her, after everything she's been through. Why, if she ever came here, I'd offer her a nice cuppa and let her put her feet up."

"I'm sure she'd be very grateful, Mrs. McCloud," I said, patting her shoulder and trying not to laugh at the horrified look on Shamra's face.

"Well, I'll be in the kitchen, dears, let me know if you want tea."

"Thanks, Mum," Shamra said, weakly, as she gestured me to sit down.

"I got your letters," I said, simply, for lack of any other way to start the conversation. "Thanks. I—um, well, I just wanted to come and tell you the truth, since you're the only on who really cares, and I'm sure you can also give me some information as to what's been happening since I saw you last time in Diagon Alley."

She blinked. "Ginny, that was over a year ago! How can you not know what's been going on?"

I shrugged. "Simple. After I flew off on my broom, a dozen Death Eaters shot me down, dragged me to an alley, and beat me to a pulp."

"WHAT?" she shrieked. "No way!"

Mrs. McCloud poked her head in the sitting room. "Something wrong, dear?"

"Um, no, Mum, just thought a gnome got in the house."

"All right, honey. Did you offer your guest something to drink? Let's not let a gnome sidestep our manners, Shamra."

"Um, right." Shamra was obviously panicking. I smiled to reassure her. "Um, I'll tell you what- I'll go grab us some butterbeer and you can wait in my room. It's the second door on the right, and that way my mum won't be stressed over anything we talk about."

I shrugged and made my way upstairs. Shamra's room reminded me much of what my own room had been like at the Burrow before I left to move in with Harry. I wondered if Voldemort had decided to burn the Burrow down after all when I disappeared. Somehow it wouldn't surprise me if he had.

"You do like butterbeer, don't you?" Shamra asked when she entered the room behind me. "I didn't think to ask."

"'Course I do. Never met a wizard who didn't."

"Oh, right! Um, would you like to sit down?" she asked, gesturing to her desk chair. I thanked her and took a seat, straddling the chair backwards so I could face her sitting on the bed. "Do you want to take your shoes off or anything? I mean, if I have to update you on everything that's happened, you'll want to be comfortable."

"No, thanks," I said, patting my trusted boot. "I never take them off until I'm ready for bed."

"Really? Why not?" She paused. "Or is that a stupid question?"

"No. It's completely fair." I reached in my right boot, pulled out my old wand and showed it to her. "No one knows about that, so I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself."

"Of course," she stammered. "So what happened after the Death Eaters beat you up?"

"Well, they knocked me unconscious, which after five minutes activated my portkey." I showed her the dragon pendant that had been hidden under my sweater. "It took me to my Healer in Australia, and I've been there ever since."

"You were in Australia for almost sixteen months? Whatever for?"

"The bastards beat me into a coma, so I was a little bit, um, incapacitated for nine months. Then I had six months physical therapy, and then a few weeks to watch my Mediwitch's cat. Elphaba. A cute little minx, if I do say so myself, even if she did drink from my teacup if I left it on the table. That cat, of course," I added, at the confused look on her face.

"Right. So you had no idea about your brother, then?"

"Percy? No. The first I heard about it was from your letter. Percy and I never really got on well, but it still hurts to know he's worse than dead."

"Of course," Shamra said politely, taking a sip of her butterbeer. "So let's see, what else has happened?"

She explained to me everything I needed to know- how Hermione was still the people's princess, how Melinda still had nearly the entire world convinced that she was me, and how Lord Voldemort had begun attacking Muggles all over Britain again.

"He hasn't moved to the wizarding population, yet, but I think he's going to start soon. Minister Granger is going on another peace tour in April, and so I think he's waiting for her to leave the country before he starts the terror. Mum and I have installed every ward on the house we can think of- about the only good thing the Minister has come up with is a tricky little charm that goes off if someone with the Dark Mark trips the line you set."

I nodded. "Hermione would think of something like that. Did she have Melinda sponsor it?"

Shamra snorted. "You bet your arse she did. Her picture's on the instruction booklet."

"Merlin, that girl makes me sick."

"Which one- Melinda or the Minister?"

I thought about it. "Both. I can't really decide who makes me fell more ill. But either way, it looks like I've got a lot of work ahead of me. Thanks for the information, Shamra," I downed the rest of my drink, "and the butterbeer."

"No problem. Wow. I can't believe you actually came to my house."

I shrugged. "I can't believe your mum said that if I stopped by she would 'offer me a cuppa' and tell me to put my feet up."

Shamra reddened. "I'll never live that down, even if no one does know about it."

"Don't worry about it. Your mother is a sweet woman- she reminds me of my own mum, although a bit more fit."

"You know, I remember when your mum died," Shamra said, quietly. "It was my third year. I almost sent you a card, but I decided not to because I thought it was a stupid idea and that if you ever found out I sent it you would hex me for bringing it up. So I tossed it in the fire in the Ravenclaw common room."

I crossed the room and impulsively hugged her. "Thanks. I wish you would have, actually, but the fact that you even made one makes me feel better. No one at ALL would talk to me about it, and I think that just made it worse. I had to deal with my grief by myself. It's sweet that you cared, and you didn't even know me."

She blushed. "Everyone knew you. You were a damn good Quidditch player." I raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh, all right," she conceded. "The fact that you were Harry Potter's girlfriend helped a bit, too."

I laughed and crossed to her desk. "Do you have a bit of parchment I could use for a sec'?"

She nodded, and pulled out a quill and a scrap of parchment for me. I jotted down a quick line and showed it to her. "Memorize it," I said, burning the paper after she nodded her affirmation. "It's my home address. If you ever need me, your owl will find me there, or you can just pop over yourself. It's dreary and filthy, because the only rooms I keep up are my bedroom, the toilet and the kitchen since I'm hardly there. So if you hear any new information and if you could take the time to let me know, I'd be forever indebted to you."

She shook her head and waved away my gratitude. "Please, Ginny. You're the one who saved MY life that night. It's the least I could do."

"Thanks, Shamra." I turned to leave, but she called me back.

"Could I—could I have your autograph? No one would ever believe it's yours, but I would know, and that would be all that mattered."

"Does your mum have a wizarding camera? I'll take a picture with you if you'd like and sign it, but only if you sign a copy for me."

"Yeah, we've got one, but why would you want my signature?"

I shrugged. "I've just got a feeling about it. They've got plans for you up there- I can feel it."

She smiled shyly at me and we headed downstairs for her mum to take the photos. We had tea together as they developed and I signed one for Shamra in the foyer while Mrs. McCloud grabbed my cloak from the sitting room. We gave each other a wink before I apparated away, heading for Grimmauld place to make my plans for Voldemort.

"You know, Shamra," began Mrs. McCloud, "that Ginny girl is a lot more down to earth than I would have expected." Shamra stared at her. "It's true. I would have thought that everything she's been through would have made her cold and hard, but she seems to be warm and caring. Something's got to be pulling that girl through."

"Mum, I thought you didn't know who she was!" Shamra cried.

Mrs. McCloud laughed. "I knew Molly Weasley, dear, and if ever there was a girl that was the spitting image of her, it was the one that just left. You could feel her aura the second she walked in the door- not to mention the temper bubbling beneath."

"Well, why didn't you say anything?"

Her mother shrugged. "It was the right thing to do. All she wants is a normal life, and I thought that if I could give her that for one afternoon, then, by Merlin, I would do it.

"She's twenty-two years old, baby. No one should have to carry a burden like that. Harry Potter is gone and so is the rest of her family, and her best friend from school sold out to become the popular girl she never was when she was young, and so the weight of the war has fallen on her little shoulders. She's quite possibly the strongest witch I've ever met, and she'll bring Voldemort down for good- mark my words."

Shamra stared at her, dumbfounded. Shaking her head, she muttered, "No wonder I got put in Ravenclaw- with genes like that."

Maggie McCloud laughed, and pulled her daughter in for a hug. "You did a good thing today, Sham', by helping her. Lord Voldemort messed with the wrong witch when he sought out Molly Weasley's daughter."

I made my way to Knockturn Alley to skulk the streets and drag them for information on what Lord Voldemort was up to. It had been two months and nothing had happened- I was starting to get nervous. If he was keeping his plans secret and he knew I was back in the country, it couldn't mean anything good. I spent a good six hours in the pub that was a frequent hang out for scum and picked up nothing other than a rancid smell and a keen reminder of how sick I was of apple juice. It wasn't until I had ditched my disguise and headed back to the light of the main alley that I found out anything new, and the person the news came from was one of the last people on Earth I wanted to see.

"We need to talk," Hermione said, urgently, following me closely with her team of bodyguards. I turned to face her, and she almost knocked into me.

"Why is it that whenever I'm in the Alley you can find me?"

She looked around herself cautiously, and pulled me in so she could whisper in my ear. "I've got people looking for you, all right? Melinda always tells me where she'll be, so if any one of my undercover Aurors reports her location, I know it's not you. That leaves whatever else is reported as the real location." She stared hard at me. "And what have you been doing in Knockturn Alley?"

"Trying to pick up information, no thanks to you. The Death Eaters can probably smell your hit wizards from a mile away, so they've been steering clear. If they keep sticking around, I'll never be able to figure out what Voldemort is up to, so YOU'LL never be rid of your problem. Make them back off."

"Fine," she hissed. "You need to come with me- now. My office. I'm sure you know the coordinates, right?"

"Unfortunately," I muttered. "Fine, but make this quick, I've got things to do."

"Like what?" she snapped.

"Gee, like killing Voldemort? I mean, seeing as you can't get off your arse and do it yourself, it's kind of fallen on me." I glared at her. "As usual. I don't know why I expected anything less from you. Or maybe I should say 'anything more'?"

Hermione huffed and disapparated, leaving me no choice but to follow in her wake. Her secretary gave me a piercing look the second I appeared.

"Oh, it's YOU again. How did rubbish like you get past security? Merlin, you stink. What the hell have you been laying in, dragon dung?"

I leaned over her desk, bringing my face extremely close to hers and relishing at the look of terror on her face as she rolled her chair backward into the wall to get as far away from me as possible.

"Actually, I was with your boyfriend. You might want to tell him to wash his sheets- a scourgifying charm doesn't take that much effort," I sneered at her. "Oh, and you might want to practice your engorgement charms- it's no wonder you're so uptight, having a small… wand… like that to come home to."

I stalked away and slammed the door to Hermione's office behind me. "Make it quick, or I might just go back there and hex your secretary. How did she get through your screening process?"

"She's Fudge's niece," Hermione explained tersely.

"That explains a lot," I replied, sitting myself in her desk chair and propping my feet up in her 'out' tray. She looked about to protest, but decided against it and sat in the visitor's chair opposite me. "These two packages arrived today," she said, gesturing to two cardboard boxes tied with string sitting on her lunch cart. "There's nothing explosive or potentially dangerous in them- I've had by best people screen them- but they arrived with instructions to open them in your presence. I have no idea what they are, but I didn't want to risk anything happening by opening them myself."

"Well, I'm here- open them, then."

"I'm scared to."

I stared at her. "You've faced Lord Voldemort, Dementors, Death Eaters and almost certain death countless numbers of times and you're afraid to open some simple packages?"

She nodded. I sighed- I couldn't harp on her. At least she was being honest. I didn't really feel like opening them myself, but it wasn't because I was scared- it was just because I was feeling contrary since it was because of her Aurors I had sat in a manky pub for six hours and had nothing to show for it.

"What's your secretary's name?" I asked.

"Candy. Why?"

I raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, and waved my wand over the call monitor on Hermione's desk. "Candy?" I asked sweetly.

"Yes, Minister?"

"Could you kindly come in here for a moment?"

"Right away, Minister."

I smiled at Hermione's look of outrage. "Have her open them, then," I said, leaning back and putting my hands behind my head. "It makes everyone happy- you don't have to, I don't have to, and the pompous secretary gets to feel important."

Hermione frowned, but she asked Candy to open the packages when she entered the office. She gave me a nasty look when she saw I was sitting in the Minister's chair, but Hermione's gentle cough told her not to ask questions.

Candy opened the packages with her wand, peered inside, screamed, vomited, and bolted from the office hollering her resignation. Hermione and I looked at one another, stood up and immediately ran to the trolley.

"You look," Hermione said, nervously, her wand shaking in her hand as she vanished Candy's pile of sick.

I shook my head. "No way. I sincerely think that she was just being overdramatic, but I'm not taking any chances. On three, then."

"On three what?"

"On three we levitate whatever is in those boxes into view."

"Which box do I take?" Hermione asked, her voice cracking.

"The one on the right- you're standing on the right."

"But I want the one on the left! Candy looked in the one on the right and it made her quit her job! I have to find a new secretary now!"

"Fine!" I spat, and moved around behind her to her other side. "Take the one on the left. One, two, three- _Wingardium Leviosa!_"

I immediately understood what had made Hermione's secretary vomit. Inside the boxes were two human heads. The one on the end of Hermione's wand was my brother, Bill, and the one I was holding in the air was my brother, George's. My face contorted with fury as I cancelled the spell, and George's head dropped with a sickening 'plop' back into its box.

Lord Voldemort had gone TOO far.

I apparated to Malfoy Manor, had dinner alone with Draco, since his boys were in session at Hogwarts, found out the new coordinates of Lord Voldemort's hideout in Scotland's Lowlands, apparated back to my house in London, gathered my supplies, and apparated just outside the wards at Voldemort's new lair. I skulked around the grounds and found nothing that I couldn't handle. Voldemort was gone recruiting new lackeys, as I picked up through my extendable, and due to one idiotic guard's mistake I found out exactly how many Death Eaters were currently in residence holding down the fort until his Royal Highness came back.

Ten. It wasn't nearly enough to vent my rage, but it would have to do.

Apparently he hadn't expected the Minister to be able to find me so quickly, so he had went about his business. I came upon the first Death Eater and decapitated him in a matter of seconds. I felt like Sirius- a good struggle for my soul would break the monotony quite nicely right about now. Death Eaters two and three went as easily as the first, but four and five were more my style. I actually had to fight to get them down, which made the victory that much sweeter. Six, seven and eight were in a room together, so I donned five's mask and robes and went in to listen to their conversation. After a few minutes, seven and eight left to use the toilette, so I killed six and left his head balanced on his shoulders so they wouldn't expect anything when they returned. Seven got rather angry when six wouldn't answer any of his questions, and went to punch him, which only succeeded in knocking his head off. While he was busy investigating this, I decapitated eight, and then dueled down seven. I got a rather nasty cut across my stomach, but thanks to Emily's basic first aid teachings while I was in Australia, I was able to heal it in a trice.

Nine and ten were my only ones left, and I found them in the center meeting room. I blasted the door open and stunned one of them before they even knew what had happened. The remaining conscious Death Eater ripped off his mask, revealing a heavily scarred face- I recognized him from the pub in Knockturn Alley the year before when he had come in and talked about capturing Shamra and how he had wanted to 'take her right there'.

Oh yes, I remembered him. And most of all, I remembered what I had wanted to do to him for that little comment about Shamra.

I jumped and rolled underneath the table as he shot an Avada Kedavra at me. I threw the stunned Death Eater's body in front of me to block a Cruciatus, and decapitated him as well. Holding his head in my free hand, I stood up to taunt scar-face.

"Going to cut off my head, too, are you my pretty?"

"Oh no," I answered sweetly, dodging another hex. "You're getting better than that. You captured Shamra in that store last year, and I remember what you said."

He laughed lustily. "Yeah… I wanted to take her right there. She had a nice little arse, that one did."

"Right," I said, shooting a stinging hex at him and smiling with glee as it slashed across his torso. "And for that, you won't be decapitated. You'll be castrated."

"Catch me first, my pretty," he taunted, banishing a chair at my head. I ducked it and rolled across the floor, coming straight up and hitting him with a burning hex.

"Thought you might like that scar extended, darling," I teased. "Let's see how far down it goes, shall we?" I banished his robes, leaving him only in his underclothes. It didn't make him very happy, and he came at me with renewed vigor. I fought him hex for hex, but eventually he got the best of me.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" he shouted, and I watched as my wand went flying into a corner of the room.

I backed up blindly, and tripped over the torso of his headless comrade. Scar-face advanced on me as I scuttled across the floor like a crab, trying desperately to reach my wand. He backed me into a corner and lowered his wand to my chest, slicing open my shirt.

"Any scars on you, my pretty? We could make some, if you like. I'm sure there's lots of pretty little secrets down there I could play with."

My eyes widened in terror as he raised his wand to call out the spell, before he suddenly stopped and stared down at me, his eyes wide with wonder. I twirled the spare wand I had pulled from my boot in my fingers.

"Would you like to play with this pretty little secret?" I asked, standing up as he fell over, clutching at the wound between his legs. "Or have you had enough?"

I snatched his wand from his hand and snapped it in two as he lay whimpering on the floor. "Looks like you won't be 'taking' anyone any time soon," I spat. "Accio, wand!"

My wand flew from the wreckage in the corner and I stepped behind scar-face. "Any last words, my pretty?" I asked, my voice dripping with honey.

I didn't give him a chance to answer. I cut off his head and placed it on the up righted table.

"Accio, heads!" I called, and one by one I directed them to a spot at Voldemort's meeting table. I conjured some parchment and a quill, and left Lord Voldemort a note written and signed in his own Death Eaters' blood.

_Dear Tom,_

_I came to cut you up; I came to knock you down. I nearly died, but even that couldn't stop me. I came back to rip you up, and I came to shut you down- but you weren't here.  
Don't think this is finished. I'm back to tear your world apart. I'll break your soul apart- I swear it._

'_Til Death do us Part,_

_G. Weasley_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8: Stupid Girl**

Melinda. I was beginning to curse that girl's existence. Merlin, how I hated her. Not only was she impersonating me (and badly), she was hatching a new plan with Minister Granger that would only put more people in danger.

Including Exavier.

Shamra apparated to Grimmauld Place late one Saturday night in mid-April to inform me that she had picked up a clerical position in the Ministry of Magic and had overheard a conversation of Hermione and Melinda's with Hermione's new secretary- Shamra's friend Beth. The radio that Hermione used to communicate with her secretary (without leaving the office) had been switched on by accident, and Shamra happened to be stopping by to ask Beth to lunch when they heard the latest plans of the Minister of Betrayal.

"_So you're sure that Ginny's baby is still alive?"_

"_I'm positive, Melinda. Ginny would never give up that easy. She knows what would have happened if her baby remained in Britain, so she got rid of him."_

"_What kind of mother would get rid of her own baby?"_

"_A mother that didn't like what was in store for him. Ginny and Harry were always like that- they lived to sacrifice their own happiness to save someone else's, whether the person deserved it or not. It's only logical Ginny would send Merlin away if she thought it would be better for him in the long run."_

"_Well, why haven't you found him yet? Surely a baby with a name like Merlin couldn't stay hidden away for too long. What about that Healer? Wouldn't she know?"_

"_I've tried. I even overrode her Hippocratic oath and accessed Ginny's medical records. There's nothing in them that provides even reasonable proof that Merlin lived. There's meticulous details of pregnancy complications, though, which could very likely result in a still birth."_

"_But we need that baby, right?"_

"_Right. If we can get that baby in our hands, we could secure the public's faith in us and in the end, it's possible he could end up believing he really COULD conquer Voldemort and then ALL our problems would be solved."_

"_But you've looked everywhere for this baby, Minister! That's why we went on all those peace tours, wasn't it? So you could have a legitimate excuse to search the world for Merlin?"_

"_Yes. But it's been a fruitless expedition. I'm ready to search Antarctica if I have to."_

"_What about Australia? Maybe Ginny left him with the Healer, that way she could keep an eye on him."_

"_I've already checked. We're running out of time. Voldemort has been ruthless in his attacks- if we don't present even a plausible solution to the public soon, I'll be kicked out of office- and you know what that means."_

"_I do- it means I lose my salary, security clearance, diplomatic immunity, and all my nice free clothes, plus my good name. So what are we going to do? Go find another baby from an orphanage and present him to the public as Merlin Potter?"_

"_My thoughts exactly."_

So Hermione was after my baby. And as soon as she presented him to the public, Voldemort would be after him. Not only was she willing to sacrifice my own child, she was perfectly content with putting another innocent on the chopping block.

It was despicable.

I didn't know where to turn, so I apparated to the Australian Apothecarictic Medical Institute for Magical Injuries to consult with Elsa and Emily. They both knew about Exavier and I knew I could trust them- they would give me sound advice.

Elsa's office was just as I remembered it, but this time I could actually appreciate the artwork on the walls and the fine Persian rug I had bought for her the last time I was here. It was nice to see her and not need medical attention. She wasn't in her office when I apparated in, so I let myself out into the hall and checked with the welcome witch at the desk to see when she would be in. Her surgery was due to be over at any moment, and then she would be taking a break for lunch. The time change actually worked to my advantage in this case- I was starving, and lunch was close at hand.

"Where can I wait for her?"

"There's a chair just outside her office, ma'am, if you'd like to wait there."

"Thank you. Oh, is Emily in today?"

"She is, ma'am, she's actually assisting Healer McHeartly on the surgery."

Excellent. I could take them both to lunch. I sat outside Elsa's office and waited. Twenty minutes later, Elsa and Emily came around the corner. Emily looked up first and saw me.

"Molly!" she cried. "We've missed you! Is everything all right?"

I smiled and embraced her. Molly was the name she used to refer to me when we were in public or when she was speaking with her colleagues. It was good- it didn't attract any unnecessary attention to me, whether from the press or from Voldemort.

"Hi, Em! Hi, Elsa! It's great to see you both, too! Nothing's wrong, I just needed some advice and it's not something I could trust over the floo network. I thought we'd talk about it over lunch- I'm buying."

We sat down at a small bistro uptown where we wouldn't have to worry about being overheard and started in on the conversation- they didn't have too much time to be away from the hospital, and I didn't have too much time to let Voldemort and Hermione put their plans to work.

"So let me get this straight," began Elsa, her mouth still chewing up her salad, "Hermione and Melinda are going to adopt some random baby from the black market and put him up as the poster child for the world?"

"Pretty much," I acknowledged soberly. "She doesn't care about anything anymore. She used to be such a stickler for rules, and now she's completely thrown all resemblance of ethics out with the spoiled potion."

"Right," said Emily, thoughtfully. "And there's no way you can out her plan without bringing Exavier into the public, which would put him in danger."

"Exactly. So what can I do? I can't let her ruin some poor kid's life like this! And before his second birthday, too!"

"Have you thought about talking to her?" asked Elsa. "Maybe you could reason with her."

"I think a witch that would be willing to sacrifice a toddler just to save her political office is NOT the kind of witch that sees reason," I protested.

"How did you find out about this plan in the first place?" asked Emily.

"It wasn't me. It was Shamra and her friend Beth. Beth is Hermione's new secretary, since Candy quit."

"Wait a minute," said Elsa, slowly, "wasn't her old secretary Fudge's niece?"

"Yes."

"And her name was CANDY?"

"CANDY FUDGE?" cried Emily, snarfing her tea. "Oh, Merlin, that's just TOO rich!"

"I know," I said, laughing with them. "She was anything but sweet, too."

"So anyway, back to the point," Emily continued. "How did Beth and Shamra overhear this conversation?"

"The call monitor on Hermione's desk. She can use it to speak back and forth with her secretary, and it somehow got turned on and Shamra and Beth heard the whole thing."

"And you know how it works, right?"

"Sure. It's the same as the call monitor I used while I was in the hospital with you back in London, Elsa."

Elsa nodded. "I see where you're going, Emily. Ginny, if you can get an audience with the minister—"

"No problem. I usually just barge in. Hermione doesn't have the backbone any more to deny me."

"Good. You can go in, distract her, turn on the monitor and out her plans."

"Right!" chimed in Emily, her eyes shining with excitement. "And Beth can make sure that the key people are listening in!"

I grinned. "That just might work."

I spent the rest of the afternoon in Emily's flat visiting with Elphaba while I waited for her and Elsa to get off work. We were going to cook dinner together before I apparated home. It was almost like I had a normal life that afternoon, having dinner at a friend's flat. It was a wonderful break before I headed home to face the dark world of Voldemort's carnage and Hermione's cruelty.

I waited until Monday to visit Hermione in her office, and Beth and Shamra knew exactly who they were supposed to alert- Rita Skeeter being top on my list, along with any head of department they could find.

"Hey, Ginny!" Beth greeted me warmly when I arrived. "I found out something that you can use to your advantage when I was tidying up last night."

"Even more to my advantage than this?" I asked, indicating her call monitor. She nodded.

"Not only is there a setting that goes directly to my desk, there's also an 'all-call' switch, which will broadcast anything she says across the entire ministry. It's supposed to be used for calling emergency press conferences and such, but I think it will work perfectly for what you're planning."

I smirked. "Beth, you are an ANGEL! If you get fired for this, I will GLADLY compensate the rest of your year's salary to you by next week."

She blushed. "It won't be necessary, Ginny. I'm glad to help you out." She pushed the button on her monitor. "Minister Granger?"

"Yes, Candy?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's Beth, Minister, your new assistant."

"Oh, right. What is it Beth?"

"There's a Miss Weasley here to see you, Minister. She says it's urgent."

"Weasley?" came Hermione's frantic voice from the speaker. "I'm not due to see her until two o'clock. Why is she here now?"

"I'm not sure, Minister. Um, well, Minister, she SAYS she's Ginny Weasley, but, confidentially, Minister, it doesn't look like the Ginny you normally meet with."

I stifled a giggle and Beth gave me a wink.

I heard something crash to the floor through the speaker and through the door. Apparently Hermione was panicking.

"Send her in, Beth."

"Right away, Minister." She turned to me. "Good luck, Gin!"

"Thanks, Beth." I tossed her a few galleons. "Go grab a coffee with Shamra, that way they can't accuse you of anything since you'll be away from your desk."

She smiled. "Sure. If I can't hear you over the speaker in the lounge, I'll come and call through to monitor and make up some fake message, that way you'll know."

"Great. Enjoy the coffee."

Hermione came to her door. "Beth? What's taking—oh, you're here. You're not harassing my new assistant, are you? It took me weeks to find her and I don't feel like training another one."

"No, Hermione, I'm not. In fact, I think she's doing a wonderful job."

"Oh. Er, thanks. Well, come in then," she said, standing back to let me through the door. I breezed past her and took a seat at her desk chair and smirked annoyingly at her as she huffed in the guest seat.

Predictable Hermione. She should have stayed put- she knew I would take her seat, and yet she was stupid enough to vacate it again.

"What is it, Ginny? It isn't like you to call your own meeting with me. Normally I have to drag you in here."

"Right. Because normally the reason I have to come in here is completely stupid and pointless, but today I have a VERY good reason for wanting an audience with you."

I propped my boots up on her desk, only this time I didn't use her 'in' or her 'out' tray- I set them right in front of the call monitor. Reaching down into my boot, as if I were scratching an itch, I focused my energy on the spare wand I had grabbed onto and used a non-verbal spell to activate the all-call switch. I saw it flick to the on position, and I knew I was golden.

"Ok…" she said, apprehensively. "So you wanted your audience, and now you have it. What do you want? I don't have all day you know."

"Right," I agreed. "You've got Melinda coming in at two and you're going to parade her through the entire Ministry so the world will know by two-fifteen that you've had an audience with 'Ginny Weasley'."

Hermione glared at me. "Look, I KNOW that Melinda is not you, all right? But it suits my purposes that one of my assistants HAPPENS to look like you."

"So you've never corrected the public's assumption and told them that Melinda is really NOT me?"

"No. Like I said, it suits my purposes that she looks like you, and I use it to my advantage. What's the matter with that?"

"Gee, only the fact that she is using MY NAME to endorse products and statements made by YOU, most of which I don't agree with?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I thought the Death Eater Detector was a great idea. I thought you would, too."

"Sure," I admitted. "It's a smart charm, being able to warn you when an agent of Voldemort is on your property, but maybe if you were actually being pro-active on getting RID of the Master of Mouldy-Shorts you wouldn't NEED a dark ward tripper."

"Hey, I've been taking lots of steps to—"

"Like going with Melinda, my impersonator, to find a child through the black market and parade him as my and Harry's long lost son so the public will think they have a savior and their confidence in you will be renewed?" I breathed. "Steps like THAT, Hermione?"

"I—I never—HOW DID YOU FIND OUT?"

I leaned back in her chair and put my hands behind my head. "I have my sources, Hermione. A little bowtruckle hopped on a park bench and told me."

"It doesn't matter WHAT you say, Ginny, Melinda and I WILL use that child. My job is on the line and I don't care what I have to do to keep it."

"You're disgusting, Hermione, do you know that?" I asked conversationally. "The fact that you would take an innocent child and raise him to be a hitwizard, all while lying to him about his parentage? The fact that you would even THINK of putting him out in public when you KNOW that Voldemort would hunt him down the instant that you did." Her eyes widened- it seemed she hadn't thought of this.

"I—we—the Ministry would protect him! He would remain here, in protective custody! Voldemort couldn't possibly get near him."

"Because that's a great life for a child, Hermione, growing up inside the Ministry of Magic where the only people he sees are corrupt politicians and criminals being put on trial."

"I—he—it would work, Ginny. I have everything under control!"

I sat up and took my feet off the desk. Pounding my fists into the wood, I stared at her hard in the eyes, willing her to break. "WHY, Hermione? WHY? Why would you do it? Why would you sentence an innocent child- a TODDLER, for Merlin's sake- to death? Why are you so obsessed with making the public believe you have everything under control when you and I BOTH know that you don't?"

"BECAUSE!" she cried, her voice cracking. "The Ministry is all I have! I have NOTHING, Ginny! NOTHING! Ron died and after that there was nothing left for me. Nothing but the Ministry and my job. If I don't have that, I have nothing. Can't you understand that?"

"No," I said, simply. "I can't. Because you DID have something. You had me. You had Harry. We were there for you- or at least we would have been, if you hadn't have shut yourself away inside these walls."

"You don't understand what it was like, Ginny! I have nothing left for me in this world! I lost EVERYTHING that night! I lost the man I LOVED!" She stopped and gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

Too late, she realized what she had said.

"So did I, Hermione," I said softly. "I lost Harry. I lost my MOTHER before I had even left Hogwarts. I lost Ron that first battle, same as you. Hell, I lost Charlie, Fred, my dad, AND Ron ALL TOGETHER that night. George and Bill were taken from me and then sent back in pieces to shatter what was left of my heart. Percy was tortured to insanity by Death Eaters, probably because they thought he knew where I was. I KNOW what it feels like, Hermione. Harry and I both did. And yet you still shut us out."

"You wouldn't have wanted me," she persisted. "You had each other."

"And we wanted YOU to be with us. We were always together at school, we wanted to stick together- if the three of us were all we had, it was better than being alone. But now I AM alone, because you left me- and all for a stupid job."

"My job is NOT stupid!" Hermione cried.

"It is if it's all you're living for. It is if it changed you so much that you would be willing to send an innocent child to the stacks just to save it."

"I don't care what you say, Ginny. You won't be able to prove he isn't your child—" she looked up at me snidely, "—not without bringing your own child back into the public and admitting you lied about his death."

"So you're going to do it, then, Hermione?" I asked, sighing. "You'll condemn an innocent just to save your position as the people's princess?"

"The Ministry of Magic is all I have," she said, straightening in her chair. "That child will be brought into the public as soon as Melinda and I find him, and we'll train him to be a hitwizard, oh yes, we will. And she'll back every word of it, since everyone will think she's the boy's mother. She'll change her name, too, if I ask her. Then they can be Merlin and Ginny Potter. And one day, he might just save the world where Harry failed. And you'll never be able to prove it was all a conspiracy."

"You're right, Hermione. I can't say a word that will tarnish your reputation."

She smiled smugly and stood to walk to the door. "Good. Now, if you don't mind, you'll leave. I have lots of things to do before Melinda arrives, and I don't need you sticking around confusing the press into thinking that Melinda has hired a body double. She's all the Ginny Weasley this country needs."

She threw the door open and was immediately met with a hurricane of flashbulbs and a tornado of Quick-Quotes-Quills that came thundering into her office.

"Minister Granger!" screamed one reporter. "Is it true you've been parading a look-alike as the real Ginny Weasley and using her to back statements and endorse products of your choosing?"

"Minister!" cried another. "We have verifiable proof that you and your phony assistant planned on using an orphaned child and posing him as the next savior of the wizarding world and consequentially offering him as an unwilling target for Lord Voldemort! What do you have to say?"

Hermione turned to look at me behind her, still standing behind her desk.

"GINNY!" she screamed.

I shrugged. "You were right, Hermione. I couldn't say a single word that would tarnish your reputation—you'd said them all already."

"HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME!"

"I didn't," I replied, switching off the all-call button so she could see how I had outed her. I made my way past the reporters and gently pushed their quills out of my face. "You did it to yourself. You were so bright, Hermione. You could have had everything and you wasted it all for nothing."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9: Dog New Tricks**

Hermione didn't last long after that. The public screamed for her resignation and she gave it. Actually, it was more like the heads of department signed it for her after a medical examination deemed her temporarily insane.

Temporary my wand.

There would be no turning back for her now- not after she had felt herself infallible for so long, only to lose everything in one afternoon. I only hoped they put her in a room at St. Mungo's with Percy- that way they could ramble incoherently to one another. She always did get along better with my second oldest brother than any of my brothers or I did.

The only problem was that now everyone knew Melinda was a fraud, and so more people were accosting Shamra and me whenever we went out in public. It wasn't as bad for me, considering I really WAS Ginny Weasley, but I felt awful at what poor Shamra had to deal with. I sent an entire case of butterbeer to her house as a sorry excuse for an apology, but she stopped by and told me she appreciated it all the same- her wages at the Ministry as a file clerk really were a pittance, so she couldn't afford much of anything any more. Beth, on the other hand, was busy cleaning out the former Minister Granger's office and actually got to hire an assistant to help her document all the things of a sensitive nature she found in there. As for Voldemort, he had been as ruthless as ever in the previous weeks now that there was no official residing in the Minister of Magic's office.

Early one morning in May I apparated to Diagon Alley to do some shopping and found the street in ruins. Immediately, I drew my wand and ducked into a side street. No one was in the alley with me, so I apparated to the waiting room outside Hermione's former office. If Beth or Shamra were there, I would know what was happening instantly.

I ducked in an alcove in the hallway just outside the waiting area, and saw Beth barely holding off three Death Eaters while someone (presumably her assistant) hid under her desk. Someone was coming up behind me, so I quickly raised my wand on them- I nearly fired, but lowered just in time.

"Merlin, Gin, you almost blew my ear off," said Shamra conversationally.

"Sorry about that. Think Beth needs some help?"

She nodded and we evened the odds, binding the Death Eaters in a disapparation jinx and leaving them for the Aurors.

"Thanks," gasped Beth. "You got here just in time."

"Is it over?" came a meek voice from under the desk.

"Yes, Alfred, you can come out now," Beth sighed exasperatedly.

Alfred poked his head out and squealed. "Oh, Merlin! Is that the REAL Ginny Weasley?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. And a fat lot of help you were, mate. Didn't you learn any defensive spellwork at Hogwarts?"

"Er… I didn't pay much attention in that class. At least, not after Professor Wilfredd got eaten- he was the only thing that kept me on, quite the hunkster that bloke was."

I nodded as if to settle the matter without question, even though I had no idea who Professor Wilfredd was. Maybe I should introduce Alfred to Draco.

The hair on the back of my neck raised up, and I swirled around, putting myself in between Shamra, Beth, Alfred and whatever had just entered the room.

"What is it, Ginny?" whispered Shamra, raising her wand behind me.

"I'm not sure, just don't move, ok?"

The assault was instantaneous. Dozens of reporters came thundering into the room, flashbulbs exploding and Quick Quotes Quills buzzing wildly.

"Ginny! What happened? Did you save these poor girls from the Death Eaters?"

"Hey!" cried Alfred. "I'm not a girl!"

"Right! The girls and this poor unfortunate boy, then."

I groaned. "It was a team effort. Beth was holding her own against them, and Shamra and I came in to help her clean up."

"Ginny, is it true that you're going to run for Minister of Magic now that Minister Granger is no longer in office?" cried the first reporter.

"Miss Weasley, is it true that you sent a Devil's Snare disguised as a pot plant to Minister Granger's hospital address?" screamed another.

"Ginny! Are the rumors accurate when they say that you're dating international Quidditch star Jefferson Maltby?"

I stared at them. "Are you serious?"

"YES!" they cried, even as the Aurors shoved through them to round up the three Death Eaters we had jinxed.

"No, no, and no." I spat. "Happy now?"

"Ginny, is it true that the reason your and Minister Granger's friendship went to the krups was because she was having an affair with Harry?"

Great and honorable Merlin, would this never end?

"Is it true, Ginevra, that you're going to 'break my soul apart'?"

Wait a minute.

I centered my wand on the voice coming from near the window treatments and fired a stunner, which was deflected to the picture frame of Shamra and I Beth kept on her desk. Lord Voldemort stepped into view, and the reporters ran screaming for cover as Alfred dove once again under the desk, and Shamra, Beth, the Aurors and I tried to battle the Dark Lord.

Voldemort froze every Auror, Beth, and Shamra in a matter of seconds, and disarmed me- leaving me alone and defenseless.

"So you fancied yourself rather important, now that our sainted Minister is gone, didn't you, Ginevra?"

I held my head high and didn't acknowledge his remark. Something told me this wasn't the end.

"I came to give you a little gift, Ginevra," he commented casually as he released his Death Eaters with the counter jinx. They bowed and disapparated, leaving us alone among my frozen comrades. Voldemort flicked his wand, suspending me in midair and rendering me immobile. "You made short work of my ten followers that night, but surely you must know that I let you off easily. I knew you would retaliate."

"Get to the point, Tom," I hissed. "If you're going to kill me, get it over with. The sooner you do, the sooner I can be with Harry."

He laughed, softly. "Oh no, Ginevra. I'm not going to kill you… yet. I'm not finished playing with you. I may have killed off your family and friends, but rest assured I won't stop until I have control over the world. One day you'll bow at my feet, Ginevra."

"Never!" I cried, cringing as the air tightened around my throat, making it difficult to breathe.

"We'll see about that," he said. "I would have you as my queen, Ginny. I tried to speak with you about it, but those nasty fires you set disrupted our conversation. I thought that disposing of your brothers for you would make you understand. You have no more earthly ties, Miss Weasley, yet I can give you everything. Join me. Produce my heirs, and you shall be exalted above all others."

"I would never marry you, Tom, you know that."

He shrugged. "Never you mind- it matters not. I'll have you either way. In the meantime, though, I'll leave you with something to think about."

A harsh swish of his wand and I felt as if my insides were being ripped out. It seemed that only the force of the binding spell Lord Voldemort had used was holding my intestines inside my body. Voldemort disapparated and I chanced looking down. My own blood was pooling on the floor beneath me, and there was nothing I could do. I would bleed to death if I couldn't get myself out of this predicament. I heard a whimper coming from under the desk.

Alfred.

"Alfred! Get out here, quick! PLEASE!"

Alfred scrambled out, trembling from head to foot. "What do I do?" he squeaked. "Is the bad man gone?"

I groaned. I was finding it hard enough to concentrate as it was, and this nitwit was not helping.

"Lift up my shirt, okay?"

"Ginny, I'm gay, although if I wasn't, you might just be my cup of tea."

"Alfred! This is no time for jokes. Lift up my shirt and run your wand along the cut while saying "Immendo". Concentrate, all right?"

Alfred did so and managed to stop the some of the bleeding.

"Now, end the jinx on Shamra, all right?" He did so. "Shamra, I want you to levitate me while Alfred ends whatever jinx is holding me up here. Once he's done, I want you to slowly lower me to the ground and bring me my wand."

They did as I instructed and then released everyone else from their spells while I attempted to heal myself. It was no use. I couldn't do anything more, and without medical attention the gash running across my entire abdomen would most likely get infected. Blood was still seeping through where Alfred had attempted to bind my skin back together and my vision was beginning to swim more forcefully.

"Shamra, I—"

"Just go, Ginny! I'll take care of everything. You need medical attention and you can't get it here!

I grimaced. "Thanks, Shamra."

Shamra nodded and I activated my portkey. Elsa was sitting at her desk and dropped her teacup when I appeared inside her office.

"Sorry—about—the carpet," I managed, and then I fainted.

I woke up several hours later to find Emily propping her feet up on the foot of my bed and reading a magazine.

"You never learn, do you, Ginny?"

"I guess not," I said, grinning at her.

"You know, I did some research on the Voldemort guy who's terrorizing Britain."

"Did you? What did you find?"

"Just that he used to be a Prefect, and then went on to be Head Boy at Hogwarts. Top in all his classes, supremely popular, and every professor's star pupil."

"That's Tom all right."

"So seriously, what went wrong?"

I thought about it. Tom Riddle was an orphan, just like Harry, although Tom was obsessed with blood lines and his parentage, very unlike Harry. He lied and cheated his way through Hogwarts, gaining trust and alliances through bribery, stealth, and blackmail, where Harry worked his way through everything, finding friends in those that were trustworthy and cared about him for who he was on the inside, not for who the press made him out to be.

"You know, Emily, I really don't know. Lord Voldemort is obsessed with immortality- probably because his mother died giving birth to him, and he's infatuated with purity because of his bloodlines. He hates his father for leaving his mother, and also because of his being a Muggle."

"No way! You mean that Voldemort is really a half-blood?"

"I know. He keeps his followers based on a lie. They all think he's pureblood and so they, being mostly purebloods themselves, support him based on that fact. A rather large oxy-moron, isn't it?"

"Quite. Well, would you like to hear your damage report?"

I groaned. "I imagine that I racked up a few marks, didn't I?"

"Oh yes," Emily said conversationally. "We spent a good four hours mending up your internal organs and then a good half hour fixing the dodgy spellwork on your abdomen. Honestly, whoever helped you out there ought to have his wand broken in half."

I laughed, and then groaned, clutching my stomach. It was still rather sore.

"That would be Alfred, Beth's new assistant. He was the only one available and I couldn't do anything myself, being immobilized like I was. I didn't want to risk being brought down without a seal having at least been attempted- I didn't really fancy my intestines spilling all over the floor."

Emily nodded. "Well, I guess in the circumstances, you did all you could. You'll need to keep your movement to a minimum for at least a week- I would put any other patient on bed rest, but we all know that won't happen with you, so I'll just tell you to take it—"

"Extremely easy," I supplied for her. "I understand."

Elsa came in shortly after that, and brought with her more pictures of my baby. He would be two in four months- I couldn't believe it had been that long.

"I've had contact with my cousin, and she says he's doing well. Progressing and developing in almost all areas right on schedule."

I looked up from a photo of Exavier swinging on a tire swing. "What do you mean, 'almost all areas'?"

"Well, he's nearly two, but he hasn't spoken a single word yet. He just won't talk. He nods, points, uses sign language and pretty much fends for himself if he needs something, but no vocal words have come out of his mouth."

"He's not mute, though?" I asked nervously.

Elsa shook her head. "No. He cries and makes noises when he plays with his toys, but he just doesn't talk. She seems to think it's a conscious choice of his not to talk."

I nodded. "But he's all right, otherwise?"

"Oh, yes. She sent a picture he drew- here." She handed it to me. It was a drawing with wizarding crayons, and was crude, but I could tell what it was immediately. A rough, green dragon with shooting flames was flying around the paper. I clutched my pendant.

"I'm coming, baby," I whispered. "Not too much longer now."

I spent the evening of June eleventh in my kitchen with Shamra and Beth, who had been newly informed of my residence, drinking Honeydukes Chocolate Martinis and discussing (okay, laughing at) the new political campaigns of the ministerial candidates. In between speeches on the Wizarding Wireless Network, we talked about our dreams and aspirations. Beth's didn't surprise me- she wanted to pay her dues as an assistant in the Ministry and then work her way up to Department Head of International Relations. She already spoke four languages fluently and wanted to work to improve trade, harmony, and cooperation between the major wizarding powers of the world. Shamra's, on the other hand, did. I would have thought she would have wanted a similar career route to her friend's, but she confessed (after her third martini) that what she really wanted to do was become a fashion designer.

"Didn't you make the costume you wore to the fair that one year?" I asked.

She blushed. "Yeah. I did it at first because I thought it would have been something you would do, but ever since then I've been making most of my own stuff. That day I was captured inside Wanda's Wiley Witchwear I was trying to show Wanda my design portfolio, but I got taken before her assistant had even brought her out from the back. All my drawings were ruined when I was dragged out of the shop."

"Oh, Shamra!" I cried. "That's awful! You must have spent months on them!"

"Yeah," she sighed.

"If you designed clothes, I would totally wear them. I bet they would be great."

"Yeah, Sham," Beth agreed, readily. "You should make Ginny some clothes and then whenever the press accosts her, she can plug for you!"

"Would you do that, Ginny?" Shamra asked, her eyes shining.

"Of course I would."

"Then you could be known for your own REAL name," said Beth. "Everyone will want a Shamra McCloud outfit because Ginny Weasley wears them!"

"And then I wouldn't have to shop anymore," I added. "I could have all my clothes tailored specifically for me. It would be brilliant!"

We discussed designs for a while and Shamra took down my measurements. I couldn't wait for my new clothes. Having a real designer make things specifically for me was something I had always dreamed about being rich enough to afford when I was a girl, and here I would get them for minimal price (although I would make sure Shamra got what I thought they were worth- at least double what she was asking).

"What about you, Ginny?" Beth asked. "What's your dream?"

"Me?" I asked. Wow. No one had cared before- not since Harry, and that was years ago. And my dreams had all changed since then.

"Yeah, go on, Ginny," encouraged Shamra. "Tell us."

I wanted to tell them I didn't have any dreams. I wanted to tell them that just simply living was a dream enough, but I couldn't lie. They were the closest things to friends that I had, other than Emily and Elsa, and they lived countries away.

"Well," I began, slowly, "I guess I want to get rid of Voldemort. I want revenge for everything he's taken from me."

Shamra carefully set down her glass. "Oh, Ginny, that's so sad. I always thought dreams were happy, but yours is founded on bitterness- not that I can blame you. I'd feel the same way in your situation."

"Me too," agreed Beth. "But what about after, then? Your dreams can't all be so goth-like. Say you rid the world of Voldemort, what do you want to do then?"

Shamra grinned. "You'll retire, won't you?"

I nodded. "I guess you could call it that. But there is something I want to do."

"What is it?" asked Beth.

"I want to go to India. I suppose I would retire there. I want to go where I can live in peace and no one will know me from any other person that walks the streets. I want to be able to go to the market and buy my potion ingredients without being harassed by the press. I want to live in a nice, clean, airy house with a screened in porch where I can invite friends over for tea. I want to be able to sleep with my windows open and not worry about the cold, or Voldemort sneaking in. I want…" I stopped. Did I dare?

"Go ahead, Ginny," said Shamra, gently. "You can tell us."

I sighed. "I want to see my son again."

"Your son?" Beth squeaked. "But I thought—"

I nodded. "I know. Everyone thought that he died- I had to make it that way. He would never have been safe if he had stayed. If Voldemort wouldn't have gotten him, Hermione would. You both know that, you heard her."

"But she's been to India!" cried Shamra, aghast. "On her peace tours- that was one of her stops!"

"I can't believe she didn't find him!" breathed Beth. "You must have hid Merlin exceptionally well."

I grinned- I couldn't help it. The martinis had relaxed me like I hadn't been in years, and the laid back company was doing wonders for my affect.

"That's the thing- my son's name isn't Merlin. When that woman asked me what his name was she caught me off guard, so I said what most people do when they can't think of anything to say—"

"You said 'Oh, Merlin'!" cried Shamra. "Everyone mistook it for the baby's name when you were really just cursing! Oh, Ginny, that's brilliant!"

"I guess so. So that's why she hasn't been able to find him. She's been combing the four corners of the wizarding world for a baby named Merlin when she should be looking for a baby named—"

"NO!" cried Beth. "Don't say it! What if someone overhears?"

I shook my head. "No one could- this house is more secure than Hogwarts. Harry, Dumbledore and I made sure of it."

"You don't have to tell us, Ginny," said Shamra, softly. "It's probably the best kept secret in the world- I wouldn't want Voldemort to get his hands on it on my account."

"Mine either!" said Beth, fervently.

I smiled. "Thanks, girls. I know you wouldn't tell, though." I held up my wand and shouted a nonverbal incantation with all my strength in my mind. In a moment, the baby picture I had copied from Elsa's of my son flying on a broom shot into the kitchen. I held it out to Shamra and Beth, and their eyes welled with tears.

"This is my baby," I said, softly. "His name is Exavier."

"He's so beautiful, Ginny," Shamra whispered.

"I've never seen a more gorgeous baby," Beth concurred.

"Thank you," I said, banishing the photo back to its hiding place.

"So you're going to go after him again, aren't you?" asked Shamra, referring to Voldemort.

I nodded. "What else can I do? Until Voldemort's gone, I can never be the mother my baby deserves."

"Even after everything he's done to you?" Beth asked, worriedly. "Aren't you afraid you won't make it? Couldn't you just let the Aurors do it, Ginny? We couldn't bear to see you hurt again."

I shook my head. "That's the problem, Beth. I can't just sit back and let him take control. If I want something done, it seems I have to do it myself. The Ministry is hopeless and the Aurors aren't too much better, not while they're in the Ministry's control. I've tried to let go, I've tried to not care- it never works. I'm going after Voldemort, because if I don't do it, no one will." I took another sip of my martini. "I guess you can't teach an old dog new tricks."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10: My Lover's Box**

I was tired. I was tired of Voldemort. I was tired of reporters hounding me for comments on Hermione's new witless state. I was tired of the rain. But most of all, I was tired of being away from my baby. I deserved to live in peace. I deserved to sit in the sunshine. I deserved to be loved. I deserved to have a family. I deserved to live.

Didn't I?

I awoke alone in my room at Grimmauld place, hugging Harry's old pillow. Rain pattered on the window as the sun feebly attempted to peek through torrents of grey clouds. I grabbed my dressing gown and padded down the stairs into the kitchen. Putting the kettle on the stove, I jabbed at the burner with my wand and rummaged through the cupboards for my favorite tea. Vanilla. It always made me feel better. A bit of milk and sugar from my wand, and I went back upstairs and sat on the floor in my room. I banished a dust bunny from underneath the bed skirt and a box caught my eye.

Harry's box.

I pulled it out and blew the dust from the lid, then carefully opened it. All my memories were inside. The first thing I saw was Harry's wand, wrapped up in gold tissue paper. I hadn't touched it since the day Hermione had forced it upon me on the steps of the ministry almost two years ago. I unwrapped it and felt the firmness of the holly in my palm. The phoenix feather trembled inside the core, warming my hand even more than my teacup had. I set it beside me on the floor and moved to the next item- Harry's glasses. Beth found them in Hermione's office after she had been forced to resign and had been thoughtful enough to give them to me. The frames were bent and the lenses cracked, but I didn't repair them. I wanted them to remind anyone who saw them what Harry had gone through the last time he had worn them. I wrapped them inside the tissue paper that had housed Harry's wand and moved on to the next item. I had to laugh a bit when I realized what it was- the last bit of handle from Harry's Nimbus 2000, the bit bearing the model of broomstick and serial number. He had saved it all that time.

The Marauder's Map came next. I tapped it with my wand and watched as the dozen or so random dots labeling professors wandered around the deserted castle. This was something I wanted to keep for Exavier, in case he went to Hogwarts. I would leave it up to him, of course. If he wanted to go to school in India I would let him, that is, assuming he even wanted me to be his mother in the first place. If he did (Merlin, please!), I would let him choose where he went to school. There was history by the caldron full at Hogwarts, but that would come at a price. Everyone would know his parents. Everyone would know his life.

No. I didn't want Harry's lifestyle for him. I would tell my son everything, and leave the decision up to him. At least he would be informed.

Wait a minute… what were these? I reached into the box and pulled out a small bit of Hufflepuff scarf, a miniature model of a Hungarian Horntail, a lock of white blonde hair bound in blue ribbon, and a Bulgarian Quidditch action figure of Viktor Krum with one arm missing. Harry's memories of the Triwizard Tournament. I held the fragment of Cedric's scarf in my hand and had to wipe away a tear. It had been a terrible year for us all.

Next I found the melted remains of the knife Sirius had given Harry for Christmas, and underneath that, the crumpled piece of parchment on Basilisks that Hermione had ripped out of a library book so she could show Harry and Ron what had attacked me. I tossed that aside. I knew what Hermione Jane Granger had grown up to be and in my opinion she was really no better than Tom Marvolo Riddle. Underneath that was another bit of parchment, but this one was well preserved. Harry's first Hogwarts letter, signed by Professor McGonagall. Of course he would keep that. Harry was so proud of the fact that he was a wizard. In a corner of the box I found a Ton-Tongue Toffee, but instead of thinking of Fred and George, I thought of Harry's dolt of a cousin, Dudley. The greedy selfish prat. I wondered if he turned out all right, or if he took after his parents. I think it probably ended up more along the lines of the latter.

On the bottom of the box were photos and letters. The first one I grabbed seemed to want to sear the flesh off my hand, and I realized why when I saw the return address. Hermione. I opened the envelope and began to read, but after the first few sentences it was all I could do to even scan the remaining contents.

_Dear Harry,_

_I can't believe we've been on Holiday for only a week, and that Hogwarts is all over! I'm incredibly excited to begin my work at the Ministry, but as of late all I've been feeling is nostalgic. I think about all the things you, Ron and I have gone through and it just amazes me. I can't believe I ended up being the best of friends with the two boys I hated most (next to Malfoy, of course!). You and Ron are positively the best friends a girl could ask for and I know that if I were ever in need, I could call on you day or night, and you would be there in an instant (and of course that's almost literal, since we can all Apparate now!). _

_Throughout the years we've always been together, and I know our friendship will continue on just the same. I know you're looking to take Voldemort down once and for all, Harry, and I want you to know that I will be with you 'til the very end! I've researched some new spells, and I'd love to know what you think. I know you can do it, and I will always be there to help no matter what happens. You can count on me Harry, just like I know I can count on you._

_Love From, _

_Hermione_

_P.S. Are you and Ginny REALLY going to live together when she finishes Hogwarts? And that you're not going to tell her parents? You know her mum will have kneazels if you do, Harry, but I support you and your secret is safe with me! You love each other and that's what matters, just let me know where to levitate the boxes!_

That hypocritical bitch. I know for a fact that every time Harry needed her, she was too busy at the Ministry. And she in no way shape or form helped us move in together. And she was the one who let the cat out of the cauldron to my dad about Harry and I moving in together. And as for her 'being there no matter what happens' and ''til the very end', well… we all know how she held up on THAT end of the bargain.

Merlin, I wanted to burn that letter so badly. There were tons of letters in that box, several from me, a few from Ron, loads from my mum, and tons from Hermione. It was like they were taunting me, laughing at me. But I couldn't do it. They were Harry's. If he wanted them burned, he could find me in my dreams and tell me to. But until then, I couldn't bring myself to touch them.

Besides, if I did, they might contaminate me and turn me into a traitor, too.

I carefully packed everything except Harry's wand back into the box and pushed it back into its place underneath the bed. Then, I stood up and made my way to the bathroom. Turning the taps to the temperature I liked, I hung my dressing gown on the back of the door and stepped in. As I worked the showerhead through my hair and over my body, I thought about everything I had looked at that morning.

Harry's life had been reduced to a bunch of memories shoved in a box underneath my bed. I couldn't understand how such a magnanimous man and wondrous wizard had been reduced to only a memory. Did I want to be reduced to a box? Did I want to just give up and leave nothing to show for my efforts? If I was going to die, I wanted to leave behind something worth remembering, just like Harry had. If I was going to die, I wanted to take Tom Marvolo Riddle down with me.

Placing the showerhead back on its stand, I reached for my shampoo. Harry had bought me that shampoo from a special Muggle shop- it was supposed to bring out the radiance in my red hair. I just thought it smelled nice, but Harry always took things one step further. He put thought into everything. As I rinsed out the shampoo and scolded myself for splashing water on the floor again, I realized that the only time Harry DIDN'T think was the last time he faced Voldemort.

He rushed into the face of battle because all he could think about was making the world better for our unborn baby, with no thought or concern for himself. And I had been so mad at him for it when he didn't make it out alive. But wasn't I about to do the same thing? Would Exavier be mad at me when he learned what I had done? Or would he understand that I had done it all for him, and that given the chance to go back, I wouldn't change a thing?

I mounted the showerhead again and reached for the conditioner. Exavier. I hadn't gotten any new pictures of him in a while. I wondered if he would end up with red hair like me, or black, like his father. After the conditioner was rinsed, I lathered on the Molton Brown body wash. And this time I didn't care about how much water I spilled on the floor. My mum had always yelled about it when I lived at the Burrow, but really why all the nonsense? All it took was a simple banishing charm or a drying spell and everything was right as rain again. I decided I wouldn't yell at Exavier if he splashed in his bath. Hell, I would splash with him.

I dried myself off and got dressed, then headed back down to the kitchen to make a proper breakfast. But it seemed my shower had not only woken up my thoughts, it had awakened my senses. I took a good look at my surroundings for the first time in years, and for once I actually saw what I was looking at. And I didn't like it. It had never bothered me before how dark the house was. I guess I never really cared to notice. We always made everything happy when we lived here together.

Lived.

My entire life seemed past tense to me now. Everything seemed manky and black now that Harry was gone. Exavier was the one shiny spot, and even he was starting to fade. Would he even know me if I lived to see him again? Would he love me? I would never love someone who abandoned me. That's why I couldn't love Percy. That's why I couldn't love Hermione. They abandoned me. I would understand completely if my son wanted nothing to do with me. I wanted nothing to do with Hermione and Percy, how could I deny him the same choice?

I looked around the dank foyer and frowned. It was dark. Gloomy. How could I not have noticed before? I hated everything about this house, really. The only thing that made it home for me was gone, never to return.

And soon I would do the same.

I'd done my time here, not only in Grimmauld Place, but in London as well. Knock to that, I was tired of England, too. All it does is rain. It was the thirteenth of July and I had yet to see the sun. I descended down the final staircase into the kitchen. At least this place had a few happy memories of Shamra and Beth coming to visit. But they weren't enough to make me want to stay. I didn't like the way my life was, but for the first time I realized that I had the power to do something about it.

I wasn't going to let Voldemort run my life any longer. He was going down, and he was going down soon. Taking Harry's wand out of the box had been the first step. Executing the plans that had been forming in my mind since the day I started Hogwarts was the second. I only had a few things I needed to do- like find the proper documents to leave Shamra the house. Quill a number of letters to Shamra and Beth, as well as Elsa and Emily, and most importantly, to Exavier. I would tell him everything and unlike Harry's Aunt Petunia, I knew Elsa's cousin would actually show him.

I had been living in hell since Harry was murdered. But now the skies had opened, and I was ready to find my piece of heaven.

_**Paste the link below into your browser to check out the new banners for Supervixen! If you like what you see, go to the MN fanfic forums and ask potter101 to make you one of your very own!**_

http (colon) (backslash) (backslash) bartender713 (dot) livejournal (dot) com (backslash)

_**Sorry about the messiness of it- the site won't let me post web addresses, but the point of it is, I'm having trouble deciding which banner to use for the story, so I wanted my first fans to have the first pick! Choose one and be sure to leave a review/comment of your preferred banner choice on either here or my livejournal!**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 11: Fix Me Now**

I was under the impression that Lord Voldemort knew I was coming, because I had never before experienced such a quiet journey into his lair. I hoped I wouldn't end up like Harry all over again- making stupid mistakes, and only spared because the Dark Lord wanted the final say with me. I wanted altercation. I wanted reassurance. A deadly struggle for my life would break the monotony quite nicely right about now.

"This is it, Gin," I whispered to myself. "Give it everything you've got left." I headed for the roof, hoping that I might find some unfortunate sentinel to warm up my wand with.

I found no one. There was nothing but a cloudy sky to greet me.

I hid myself in an alcove and waited, but to no avail. The only thing that found me was a raindrop. I pulled my cloak around me tighter and jumped at a flash of lightning. I stepped to the center of the roof and raised my face to the heavens. Drawing my wand, I sent a resounding rumble of thunder into the night. It cracked, and an answering bolt of lightning soon followed. The books in the library at Grimmauld place had certainly been useful for something.

"Are you waiting for me, Tom?" I yelled into the wind, "or are you just hiding like the sniveling coward you are?" The clouds broke open and torrents of rain came flooding down. My shoulders relaxed as the rain soaked into my cloak. I welcomed every cold drop.

I heard a step behind me, and my wand was raised in an instant. The jet of light from a hex went across my cheek, and I felt the sting of the cut and the blood beginning to drip down my face. There was a flash and the bolt of lightning I had summoned connected with my victim. He dropped, and in the other illuminating sparks I saw several shadows slithering over the walls. I set my stance and waited.

"Who's next?" I taunted. "Come out and give your lives for your disgusting halfblood master. I've been waiting."

The taunt did it. Five Death Eaters launched their attack and I beat them all, one by one. The vegetable-slicing spell across their jugular vein that dropped them to their knees while they still had time to stare me in my unflinching, unremorseful eyes. The decapitation spell that sent their heads flying over the rock ledges. A few more lightning bolts that sizzled their flesh in their boots. I was angry, yes, but my anger was well controlled. It had been controlled since my first year of Hogwarts. That's where Tom Riddle's minions went wrong- they were furious with me, and their tempers caused careless mistakes. Control was something I had recently mastered, and with it would come Voldemort's downfall. I had been waiting ten years for this and I wasn't about to mess it up just because of my temper. I would let it fuel me, of course, but I wouldn't let it get the best of me. And the anger I felt masked any symptoms of pain from the Death Eaters' hexes that had hit their mark. And I knew there had been several.

Ok, like five, but I'm sure I would feel them later.

It was quiet again. If it weren't for the thunderstorm, it would have been too quiet. I raised my face to the skies and let the rain wash away the blood that had spattered on my face, arms, and cloak. Whether now it was my enemies, or mine, I didn't know. And I didn't have a chance to think about whether or not I cared.

I wouldn't let the rain wash away the anger I needed, but I would let it wash away my fear.

I found the skylight that led to the attic and dropped down inside out of the rain. With the rain drumming on the roof, it made the empty attic sound almost like a hollow drum. All around me was dry rot- I barely dared take a step for fear the floor would collapse beneath me. I took some time to dry myself off and let out an extendable to see what I would be dealing with once I left the solace of my canopy. There was a duel going on somewhere on the floor beneath me- it seemed two of Voldemort's supporters couldn't agree on what they were supposed to be doing. It didn't matter to me- two that killed each other off in a stupid duel would be two less that I would have to deal with.

I stepped carefully towards the attic fan, where my ear had slithered through the crack, and watched the duel go on below me. It was some shoddy spellwork, but it wasn't bad. Nothing a fifth year student in Dumbledore's Army couldn't have handled. A stray hex ricocheted off one of the wall torches and zoomed up through the slits in the fan- I jumped out of the way just in time, but too late to remember about the crumbling ceiling. It snapped under my weight, and I went crashing through to the floor below. The two Death Eaters immediately forgot their previous argument and launched themselves at me, seeing only the intruder. As soon as I managed to untangle myself from my cloak, they held their wands aloft, but did not strike.

"It's _her_," one whispered to the other.

"It can't be," he whispered back. "She's not tall enough."

"You're right. The way the others told it, it was like she could shoot fire from her eyes," commented the first Death Eater. "She doesn't look very frightening."

"Yeah, but she doesn't look very _frightened_, either. Is she the Dark Lord's new decoy?"

"Oi, you- are you with us or against us?"

I pointed my wand in my general direction, indicating myself.

"Yes, you."

"The others were misinformed," I stated.

"What about?" they chimed together.

"I can't shoot fire from my eyes. But I'll tell you what I can do…" I paused, waiting for them to catch on. It appeared they weren't going to get it any time soon.

"What's that?" they asked, stupidly.

"…Shoot bolts of lightning from my arse."

I turned my wand on them and they ran away screaming.

"That was easier than I expected," I muttered, holstering my wand again.

I made my way through the rest of the house unconfronted. It wasn't until I smashed through the doors of Voldemort's central meeting room that I was accosted. A mad burning raged across my flesh and it took all the strength I had not to claw at my skin. As I shrieked, I felt sharp jabs of pain at various points around my body. My skin was ripping open, whether from the original spell, or from a hidden wand that sent cutting hexes at my body as I convulsed, I wasn't sure. I winced with every new laceration. Several times I attempted to raise my wand and rebound the curse upon my attacker, but I could not find the strength, nor could I find him. I couldn't do anything but scream, try as I might to hold it in. My shrieks wrought through the entire house, as I scrambled around the meeting room, clawing at anything and everything that was in my path. My nails were soon torn and bloody, but at least I could concentrate on that instead of the fire raging inside me and the long tears in my skin. I was burning alive from the inside out and soon fell to the floor, writhing. It was then that I saw the face of my attacker. My cloak had come undone and he was eyeing every inch of my convulsing body with disgusting lust. He kneeled over me, his wand still sending torrents of burning pain through my organs, and slowly reached out his free hand to my chest. The second he touched my pendant to rip it from my neck, the burning stopped and he was launched across the room. I gave myself but a moment to gather my strength and breath, then pulled myself from the floor and leaned against a pillar for support. My torturer was also being supported, although for him it was by a rather nasty looking metal rod usually used for holding torches up on the wall, although now it was protruding through his upper chest.

It looked like the protective charms I had placed on my necklace had come in use after all.

"Miss Weasley," I heard the voice of Lord Voldemort hiss, "it's so kind of you to grace me with your presence once again. Won't you join me for a drink?"

I looked about me and found no one. It seemed that the Dark Sod and I were alone at last. I pulled up a chair at the complete opposite end of the table from him and conjured a glass for myself. There were plenty on the bar, but I didn't trust them not to be poisoned, as like I didn't trust the decanter he was now offering me. I waved my wand again and a deep red wine poured from the tip. I didn't usually care much for red wine because it made me even thirstier, but tonight I knew no liquid refreshment save one would quench the thirst I carried with me.

Tonight I thirsted for Voldemort's blood.

"To what are we drinking, Tom?" I asked pleasantly, raising my glass and slipping the contents of a vile of healing potion in my drink. It wouldn't take care of everything, but at least it would mask my symptoms enough to get me through.

"But to you, my dear. Never before have I met such a worthy opponent."

"To adversaries, then," I agreed, raising my glass a little higher and then taking a relishing sip. He drank with me and I smiled, for I knew it would be his last.

After a few moments of silence, Voldemort cleared his throat. "I take it I shouldn't entertain myself with the pretense that you've come here to reconsider my offer?"

"That would be an intelligent move, Tom."

"I wish you would. I would take care of you, Ginevra. You would be the most powerful witch- nay, woman- in the world. Think of all we could do together. We would want for nothing. All I ask of you is heirs. Secure my line, and in doing so, secure your own immortality along with mine. I could give you servants, ensure the safety of your friends, and give you access to the position of Minister for Magic, if the fancy took you. You would be the Lady to my Lord, and you would want for nothing."

"If what you desire is only the security of your line, why not breed with one who is not only a pureblood, but also your servant?" I took another generous sip of my wine. "Surely an heir of Slytherin could find a suitable partner in an heir of Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff, none which of these I am." I needed that healing potion to start working.

"Lord Voldemort knows you are intelligent, Miss Weasley, and does not underestimate one so fair. I have already pondered such unions and have sought out any possible heirs. They are long since dead—no, not by my wand. You need not ask, for I see the question in your eyes. Their lines were weak, but yours… the Weasley line is one of the strongest in the world, but that is not the secular reason why I wish for your acquiescence. All possible candidates I have seen, and into their minds I dove. None were as beautiful as yours. And, after all we have been through, Ginevra, who knows your mind better than that of Lord Voldemort?"

"Harry did."

"Of course you would speak of the late Mr. Potter. But I digress. He knew you, yes, of course he did. Even I would not deny him that. But could he see deep into the darkest recesses of your soul, uncover all your hopes, dreams and fears and either grant or banish them one by one? Lord Voldemort can, and he alone can give you what you wish."

"Can you?" I inquired, taking another drink. The pain was numbing now, and the bleeding seemed to have slowed to a minimum. "If you truly can, then look into my mind and discover the one thing I want more than any other. Find that, and then decide whether YOU wish to cut me in, or cut me out. Take away the doubt that I have about everything that is you. If you can grant the one thing that I desire most, then I shall consider your offer."

"Consider?"

"Consider."

"Then rise, fair lady, and let Lord Voldemort see into your mind so he may grant your deepest desire."

I stood, braced my hands on the tabletop and bore my eyes back into his own like drills. The probe of his Legilimency was light at first, as if he were using a feather to turn the pages of my memories, but then it became more heavy as he got to where he wanted to be. I saw his eyes widen as realization dawned.

My brothers. My friends. Mum. Dad. Harry. Harry's parents. Neville's parents. My innocence. My dreams.

My life.

Everything he had taken from me was the thing I wanted back, more than anything else in the entire world, and I knew he couldn't grant it. I knew that bringing back the dead was impossible. The only thing I could possibly think of that I wanted more than having my life back the way it was before Voldemort ruined it was simple- I wanted Tom Riddle dead.

I wanted revenge.

He broke the connection. We were both sweating and he took his seat once more to catch his breath, so I did the same.

"So," I began nonchalantly, "can you grant me what I desire? Can you take back everything you've done? Can you fix the turmoil you've wrought over the years?" My fury was building and so was the strength of my voice behind my words. "Can you stop the hollow feeling in my heart that pains me beyond words every morning? Can you bring me back to life?" He was silent. "I didn't think so."

I stood and removed my wand from its holster, then draped my cloak across the back of my chair. "Then give me the next best thing, Tom. Give me my chance for revenge." He rose and awkwardly bent his spine to me.

"As you wish."

And the duel began, faster than lightning. Lord Voldemort was a superb dueler, and I was barely keeping up. I started on the offensive, throwing everything I had at him. Stunners, scorchers, stingers, and the occasional fireball. I think one out of every ten hit him before he switched it up and I was playing defense. I dodged, ducked, rolled and jumped on top of my shields, but he was firing too fast. Lord Voldemort sent a Killing curse towards me, and I jumped out of the way, only to intercept a Cruciatus he had sent directly after that I hadn't noticed. I screamed, and almost sank to my knees. I knew if he got me off my feet I was done for.

"EMBLASTARA!" I cried, and my spell seemed to be amplified by the pain I was feeling. I missed Voldemort completely, and he sent another Cruciatus curse at me, and I only just escaped by apparating to the left of him. I shot another stunner, hoping to catch him by surprise, but he blocked it. And on top of it, he knew where I was. I dodged the ricochet of my own spell, and while I did he hit me with a reductor curse.

I flew five feet into the air and dropped like a stone onto the floor. I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't support me- my muscles were still in shock from his curse. I attempted to pull myself with my arms to a wall, but Lord Voldemort was advancing on me too fast.

"Expelliarmus!" I cried in desperation, at the same time as he yelled the identical jinx. My wand was ripped from my hand and landed hollowly on the stone some ten feet away as his flew in the opposite direction, but he tarried not in his press forward upon me.

Now I was really in a fix. He was nearly on top of me now, and he swooped down to my right leg. I cried out in pain as he pulled it out from where it had been cramped underneath me, and then he reached inside my boot and ripped my original maple wand from its hiding place.

"Thought you could trick me, did you?" he asked, twirling my wand triumphantly in his fingers. "You can't pull a fast one over Lord Voldemort, Miss Weasley. I thought you were smarter than that." I said nothing, only stared up the shaft of my own wand, which was now being used against me.

"So how would you like to die, then, Ginevra?" he asked, still holding my wand upon me. "Such a worth foe should have a say in such matters. I really _should_ kill you with your own wand, now that I think of it. It seems appropriate, don't you think?"

I said nothing, only tried to scoot myself once again closer to the wall. He moved with me and began to laugh at my pitiful flight.

"Of all the things you dreamed, Ginevra, did you ever dream you would die like this? You thought I had taken everything from you, but now I'll take your life, too."

As he tossed his head back in a cackle, I acted. Leaning forward, I reached into my left boot and pulled Harry's wand from its strap. Mid-cackle, I disarmed Lord Voldemort and then blast him with a reductor curse, sending him flying into the opposite wall. He appeared to be out for the moment, so I slowly pulled myself up and used the table to support me as I walked the length of the room to where he lay. With my left hand, I braced myself on a chair and used it like a crutch until I was standing over Voldemort's spread-eagled form. I kicked him in the groin, and he revived somewhat. He coughed, and black blood mixed with his spittle as it dripped from his mouth onto the stone. He looked up at me with his red eyes, and they widened as they fell upon my wand.

"Harry's—" he gasped.

I nodded, my arm never wavering.

"You—really are—worthy," he said, attempting to raise himself to his elbows. I stepped on his chest with my boot, forcing him back down. "It doesn't—have to be—this way," he said, in one last attempt to win me over to his side.

"You're right, Tom," I said, tightening my grip on the chair with my left hand. "It didn't have to be this way."

"So join—me. Change—your mind. It's—not too late."

I smiled at him, and leaned my head down so I could see his twisted face up close.

"Catch me on a better day, Tom," I said softly. I rose to my full height and aimed my wand down upon him. "EVISCERO CAPITALIS!"

Blood squirted up from his neck as his head rolled across the floor, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Accio wands!" I called weakly, and in a moment three flew into my outstretched hand. I returned Harry's and my original back to their hiding spots in my boots, while to mine I held tight. I rested my forehead on the cool wood, thinking of what to do next. I had the wand of Lord Voldemort. I didn't want it to get into the wrong hands, but I also wanted it as proof. Setting it on the floor, I stepped on the center and grabbed the handle. With a firm yank, it snapped cleanly in two. I put each half in a separate boot.

Turning back to the body of Voldemort, and idea struck me. I dragged my chair crutch to his left side and raised my right boot, using all my weight and strength; I jumped on Voldemort's chest, cracking as many of his ribs as I could, along with his breastbone. Touching my wand to his robes, I cut them open to reveal his flesh, and then used my wand once again to make the incision. I'd never pretended to have any interest in the medical field, but I was interested in Voldemort's heart. As I poked around, I recalled the conversation I'd had with Draco Malfoy- on how I wanted to know how Voldemort wanted his heart handed to him- on a skewer or on a platter- and how Draco felt he didn't have a heart to extract. Well now I knew the answer.

"Accio heart," I whispered, and it flew into my hand.

I had been right about one thing- his heart was black. Most likely as black as his soul.

I ripped off a piece of Voldemort's robes and cast a few petrification and preservation charms on Tom's heart before I wrapped it inside. I slowly made my way back to my cloak and took a draught of a healing potion that Emily had taught me how to brew. I felt its effects immediately, but I was still thankful that I had made it through the night with minimal damage. I placed the newly wrapped heart inside one of my cloak's many pockets, cast a cleaning spell on my bloody hands, and then put it on. I had almost disapparated before I realized that I had forgotten something. I grabbed it, turned on my heel, and disappeared in a cloud of red smoke.

Malfoy Manor loomed ahead of me in the moonlight and I strode purposefully up to the door and knocked. Sniffy answered in a trice and showed me into the study. It was late, but Draco wouldn't mind when he learned the reason behind my call. I collapsed in the chair I had occupied before and waited only twenty minutes before Draco arrived in his dressing gown. I struggled to rise from my chair to greet him in the polite manner he deserved, but he waved me back down.

"If something has brought you here as this hour, it must surely have been in haste." He looked me over. "You look as if you've been through hell," he commented, though he smiled as he filled a glass with brandy and set it on the table next to me.

"Really, Draco, I'm fine." I insisted as I attempted to take a sip of my drink. My hands shook and I would have dropped it on the floor had Draco not taken it from me. Kneeling on the floor before me, he held it to my lips and bade me drink, and didn't stop until I had finished enough to steady myself.

"Thank you," I managed, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. It was a mistake- now I had blood all over my face.

"What happened, Ginny? Did you go to Voldemort?"

"I did."

Draco smiled and eyed the box I had set down by my chair. "So are you in a hurry, or no?"

"I suppose not, but I do need an owl. I'd like to send a package, if you don't mind."

He snapped his fingers and Sniffy appeared.

"Yes, Master Malfoy?"

"Take Miss Weasley to the guest bedroom and run her a bath. Tend to her wounds and mend her clothes while she collects herself."

"Yes, Master."

The elf disappeared briefly and in the meantime I addressed my package and sent it with Draco's Eagle Owl that had been perched in the corner. In a moment, Sniffy had returned and held out his little arm for me. The elf kindly helped me through the house and up the stairs to the most elaborate and finely furnished room I had ever seen. Another elf had already begun to draw the bath and a third was mixing all sorts of minerals and potions into the water. Sniffy bowed and made his exit, informing me that he was going to find me a suitable set of robes to wear while the elves did what they could to mend my clothes. The two other elves (presumably female) helped me undress, cleaned my wounds (that smarted, let me tell you) and proceeded to extract some forty three splinters from when I had fallen through the ceiling. After what felt like another eternity of torment, they helped me into the tub. It was warm, soothing, and only tingled on my cuts and scrapes. I washed the scuzz out of my hair with one of the elves' help and then sat patiently while they attended to the abrasions on my face. An hour later (and the charmed tub kept its heat, thankfully) I was ready to meet Draco once again in the study.

Graciously he poured me another glass of brandy, filled one for himself and then sat across from me. "My mother's robes, aren't they?"

I nodded. "Sniffy insisted."

"Green is a lovely color on you. It's a shame you weren't in Slytherin, really."

"Well, the hat considered putting me there, but decided against it when I exchanged some rather harsh thoughts with it." Draco laughed. "But I thank you for the compliment. Green is a nice color."

"So tell me, what brings such an amazing guest at such an equally amazing hour?"

"I have a gift for you," I answered, carefully extracting the black pouch from my coat.

"You came all the way here at three in the morning to bring me a gift? How kind."

"Well, Draco, I saw it and I immediately thought of you."

"Really? Well then, let's have it! Or would you care to tell me of what resulted from your altercation with Lord Voldemort this evening first? Beat up as you were, if you escaped his wrath once again, I imagine he is in quite a temper right now."

"Ah, well," I said, taking a sip of my brandy, "as to the current temperament of Lord Voldemort, I can personally assure you that he… well, let's just say his head and his heart are in entirely two different places on that matter."

Draco raised a flamboyant eyebrow at me and untied the string I had used to close it. His face lit up with wonder as he realized what lay inside.

"Ginny Weasley, you little minx!"

"Yes, Draco, I must say I quite am."

With a flick of his wand, he levitated Voldemort's heart a few inches above its bag and rotated it.

"Sorry about the lack of platter. I would have used silver, had it been made available to me."

"Oh, the bag will do just fine! And you seem to have preserved it quite nicely. A few finishing touches from Sniffy and it will be quite a conversation piece in my library. Really, though, had I believed that he HAD a heart in the first place, I NEVER would have thought it to be black. Although it does seem rather fitting, doesn't it?"

"I couldn't agree more."

Draco called Sniffy in and the heart was then removed from my sight. I never saw it again, though I did hear of it quite often. The Daily Prophet paid quite a sum to get a photo, I was told. We were both silent for a while, during which I poured myself another glass of brandy and topped off Draco. A few moments later, he looked thoughtfully at me.

"You said earlier that Voldemort's head and heart were in two different places on the matter of how his temperament was about you escaping once again. Where did you leave his head?"

I smiled gleefully. "That's what was in the box. I sent it to the Minister of Magic. Anonymously, of course, although I'm sure they'll know it was me."

Draco chortled, and soon it turned into a full-fledged laugh. "You are such a trick, you know that right?"

I raised my glass. "To a charming addition to your collection," I said, grinning.

"No, to your victory- to your revenge."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 12: Milk**

The date was July the twenty-first, and it would be a day that would lie forever scorched on Eavan McHeartley's memory. It was early in the morning when she heard the screaming begin. The ayah came running into her chambers, crying out in Hindi between sobs. Something was wrong with the baby. He wouldn't stop crying. His skin was burning all over, yet he was convulsing and shivering as if he'd been left out in the tundra for hours. Eavan ran down the corridor into the nursery and after a quarter of an hour's fruitless attempts to calm the child, tossed a handful of powder into the dying embers of the fireplace, calling out her cousin's name until Elsa McHeartley finally appeared.

"_What time is it there, Eavan?" asked Elsa's head from the fireplace._

"_Nearly five, now, but you have to come. He's in some kind of fit and won't be stopped, I've never seen him like this—I don't know what to do!"_

_There was a soft pop, and Eavan pulled her head from the hearth to see her cousin standing behind her, already dressed in her Healer's robes. Elsa went immediately to the crib and took the baby into her arms, waving her wand over his shaking body._

"_What is it, Exavier?" she breathed, pressing her fingers gently on the boy's abdomen. "Tell Auntie Elsa what's wrong."_

"_You know he doesn't talk, Els'," Eavan cried exasperatedly over Exavier's wails, wringing her hands. "Hasn't said a word- in English OR Hindi- and he's nearly two!"_

"_English or Hindi?"_

"_We speak to him in both—oh, Merlin, maybe that's why. He's confused!"_

"_I'm sure he's fine, really. Lots of wizards grow up in bi-lingual households." Elsa paused, running her wand once again over the screaming child. "Muggles, too, come to think of it, but this is neither the time nor the place to discuss child rearing. Run a bath for him, Eavan, he's freezing. I'll give him something to break the fever, but we'll need to keep him warm and comfortable, and a bath is the only thing I can think of right now that might relax him."_

_The ayah, who had been standing in the corner, quickly left to draw the bath, returning shortly after._

"_What else can we do?" Eavan asked worriedly. "What's wrong with him?"_

"_Nothing that I can really tell," said Elsa calmly as she continued her examination. "From here it's only guesswork."_

"_Well start guessing! Look at him, he's miserable! There has to be some sort of explanation."_

_The ayah entered the room and told Eavan the bath was ready. The three women journeyed down the hall and the ayah began to undress the baby on the changing table, while Elsa stood by the tub and Eavan nervously sat aside._

"_Well?" Eavan prompted. _

_Elsa said nothing, only poured a combination of several vials into the basin, as the ayah lowered Exavier carefully in the lavender mixture. After mumbling a few incantations over it with her wand, Elsa began to examine the baby's tiny body once again as he screamed and splashed in the water._

"_What happened here?" she asked, pointing her wand at Exavier's chest as she tried to move his hands so the others could see._

_The other two women leaned over the child, staring at the blackish mark on his breastbone._

"_I'm not sure," Eavan said tearfully. _

"_It was not there when I dress him for bed," said the ayah softly, in heavily accented English._

"_Watch it. Notify me of any changes in its shape, color, or texture, all right?" The two women nodded. "I really have to go. They'll notice I'm missing if I'm away too much longer. I'll check back with you every hour, all right?"_

_Eavan nodded tearfully as Elsa disappeared with a pop. The baby continued to fuss and as the early morning hours wore on, he gradually quieted but slept only in brief increments. Several days after the incident, Exavier was awake and playing on the floor of the nursery with the ayah, as Eavan chatted with Elsa in the fireplace._

"_Really, he's acting as if nothing happened. If anything, I'd say he's happier than usual. But honestly, it's the strangest thing- the mark on his chest. We've been watching it, and I think it finally has a definite shape. It looks exactly like—oh, hold on, Elsa, that's the bell. I'd better go get it so Nayantara can keep watch on him."_

I didn't stay much longer at Draco's, and returned home only briefly to pack up what little belongings I had that I wanted to take with me. I'd sent a brief owl to Shamra, containing the key to Grimmauld place, nothing more. After I was settled, I would write her more in detail. I didn't stay in England any more than twelve hours after my defeat of Voldemort- I didn't think any longer would be safe enough to keep me out of the public eye. The streets would be swarming with reporters looking for me as soon as the Ministry of Magic came up with undeniable proof that Lord Voldemort was dead.

As if his decapitated HEAD wasn't enough!

But I digress- as soon as I could, I disappeared from Britain, for what I presumed would quite possibly be forever. I had been scouring the Indian wizarding papers for months, making anonymous floo calls to realtors and negotiating prices, but never closing a deal. Finally, I had found the perfect house on the coast of the Arabian Sea in the unpopulated countryside north of Bombay, and all I needed to do was get rid of Voldemort. Having done that, I made the call and my realtor set the deal in motion. My house had a large kitchen, a bedroom each for Exavier and myself, plus a room for guests. There was a separate dining and living room and a closed in porch- exactly what I wanted for having tea. I liked it from the moment the realtor had sent a picture, and adored it the moment I set foot across the threshold.

I spent two nights in a Muggle inn while my house was cleaned and aired, making use of my time doing all my furniture and accessory shopping in the bazaar, and then my seaside bungalow was ready. I considered myself a supreme haggler, growing up in a family with such a limited budget, but now I could afford to spend even more than what I wanted. But excess money and speaking only English didn't stop me from cutting deals. Manically, I put my house to rights in only a day after all my furniture was delivered- not a bad feat even with magic. I'd thought about taking some of the larger things from the bazaar with me, but even I couldn't hide in an alleyway with a wardrobe and shrink it without being noticed.

My flat was what I would consider lavishly furnished, but to others it would seem most likely 'just right'. I wanted open spaces where I could move about with ease, nothing that would remind me of the stuffiness of London and Grimmauld place. Each room had a theme, bright colors and a work of art I had bargained for with a local artist. I adored his work- landscapes, mostly- and it suited every theme I wanted. I bought out nearly half his stock, and he drove me a hard bargain because he knew I would buy. I liked the bloke, so I paid more than I should have for all the paintings, but I didn't care. His paintings made me smile, something I hadn't done in years. One was even a Scottish countryside with a castle that reminded me something of Hogwarts. I put that in Exavier's room, which ended up decorated in a true Hogwarts fashion. Hogwarts had been Harry's favorite place in the entire world and I thought, as his son, Exavier would like it, too.

Exavier. I'd been in India for almost a week. Soon I could finally bring him home. I didn't know what stopped me from apparating to his side the moment I had arrived, but something in my heart wouldn't let me. I wanted to be established. I wanted him to have a home to arrive to- not an empty bungalow with only a few silk cushions and his mum's old tea set. I wanted everything to be perfect, unlike how my life had been. If I couldn't get perfect, I would take safe, happy, and home-like. I cleaned the house unnecessarily for hours before I finally stopped myself and had lunch. I had apparated to the British Wizards Embassy the day before and officially registered- Beth had been a great deal of help in that department, filling out all the necessary paperwork I would need and express-owling it to me. I legally changed my name, bypassing some of the messy red tape also thanks to Beth. Anyone looking for Ginny Weasley wouldn't find her, and that was what I wanted. Beth would be sure to see that my change of address, citizenship, and name would be banished behind the tapestry at the Ministry back in London. Anyone that I wanted to know my real name knew, and anyone I didn't was kept out of the cauldron. Once Exavier was with me, I would take him to the embassy and register him as well, under our new legal name. Together, we would be a family- Ginevra and Exavier Pendragon.

I dressed carefully, wearing a new ivory sari and a green silk scarf I picked up in the bazaar. It was pleasantly cool and comfortable, and from what I had seen throughout my week in India, it would put me perfectly in place in either Indian wizard or Muggle society. I fixed my hair with an obsession to rival Fleur, until I couldn't stall myself any longer. I activated my portkey to take me to the location Elsa had secretly informed me of on my last visit to her in Australia and held my breath the entire way. I was petrified. What if he didn't want me around? What if he screamed at the sight of me? What if he cried when I took him away from his long-term surrogate Mum? Even worse, what if they wouldn't let me take him?

What if?

I must have stood on the porch for a half hour before I plucked up the courage to pull the bell. Merlin, honestly, I don't know what I was so nervous about. I'd faced death, comas, life-threatening injuries, Lucius Malfoy, dementors, Lord Voldemort, and slews of reporters any time I set foot outside.

And yet this doorbell was by far the most frightening thing I'd ever seen in my life.

In the end, I pulled it, and very nearly apparated away before it opened. But something made me hold my ground. It was as if there was a permanent sticking charm put on my sandals the second I stepped on the porch. A kindly looking witch answered and inquired of my visit, but I choked on my words. I let out a squawk and satisfied myself with a shrug, causing my scarf to slip from my shoulders.

I don't know what I did (because it obviously wasn't something I said), but she admitted me with a wide-eyed smile.

"Please sit," she said pleasantly, conjuring up a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. "I'll return for you in but a moment."

I picked up the teacup and stirred, but didn't drink. I couldn't. I couldn't do anything but stare at her tapestries and window arrangements, most likely with my mouth hanging open. The woman returned a few minutes later, but to me it seemed like an eternity.

"I'm Eavan McHeartley," she said. "I apologize for not introducing myself from the start. I'm quite surprised to see you, but also grateful."

"I—I'm—" I squawked again, and she laughed- like tinkling bells.

"No introduction necessary. I know exactly who you are."

I attempted to thank her for everything, but she waved it away.

"It is I who should be thanking you for ridding the world of Lord Voldemort- he murdered my family, which is how I came to be here in the first place." We walked down a hallway together and she explained more. "A close relative that had no children- an Uncle to Elsa and myself- raised me. He was Godfather to both of us and I loved him very much, but I was always bitter towards Lord Voldemort. You have my deepest gratitude for disposing him."

"I—" I shrugged. "You're welcome."

"Wait here for a moment, please," she said, and then disappeared through a door, closing it behind her. I resisted the urge to pull out an extendable, but found it would have been both unnecessary and unhelpful- I could hear through the door, and the two voices on the other side were speaking a language I had heard frequently the past few days, although I understood none. I did understand one word, though…

Exavier.

My baby was on the other side of that door. I wiped my palms on the sheer material of my sari and noticed that my knees were shaking. The door opened and I was admitted to a quaint sized room with bright windows and pictures.

"There's someone here to see you, Exavier," said Eavan, smiling wider with each syllable as she gestured to the boy, whose back was towards the door.

She turned back to me and whispered, "He does not speak, so you must not be alarmed. We're not sure why, but…" She trailed off into silence.

I nodded- Elsa had informed me of that, and it had never really left my thoughts. But I never really thought how I would get past such an obstacle. I froze in the doorway, until an Indian woman came and took me by the hand, leading me into the center of the nursery.

"I am Nayantara, miss. Please, do not be afraid. Go to him. We tell him all we know about you—his mother—he will know. He must."

I nodded bleakly and stepped closer to the child—MY child—playing on the rug. Two steps was all it took and I tripped on the hem of my sari, falling to my knees- seven steps away from him. The boy straightened at the noise, but did not turn. He went back to his play.

It was as if he was ignoring me. Almost as if he were hiding—if he didn't see me, I wasn't there.

Oh, Merlin. I'd been away for too long. He knew I existed, that I was his mother. He didn't want to get his hopes up. That's why he wouldn't look at me. He didn't want to think I had come back, only to leave him again.

How would he recognize me? He'd only seen me for moments. …But my voice. He'd heard that for nine months. I used to read to him at night while I was in the hospital before I would go to bed. But would he remember?

I took a breath and let it out slowly. I'd waited nearly two years. It was now or never.

"Ex'," I whispered. He straightened again, dropping his block to the floor. "Exavier," I repeated, only slightly louder. "Baby?"

He pushed himself off the floor and turned around on his little legs- ever so slowly- and looked me in the eyes. His expression was blank for what felt like an eternity, and then it changed in an instant. One moment his eyes were dark, questioning, and the next, they were alight with fire and he was smiling, running as fast as his little legs could carry him into my arms.

"Mummy!" he cried, and wrapped his arms around my neck.

Eavan and Nayantara gasped, and I burst into tears.

"Yes, baby. Mummy's here."

He pulled slightly away and played his hands across my face, as if memorizing my features. Looking out through my teary eyes, I saw the face I had been dreaming of for nearly twenty-four months. I remembered the first time I had seen that face- those eyes- and my emotions welled over once again. My spell had done something if my voice hadn't—my son remembered me. And he remembered why I had gone.

He remembered that I loved him.

"Don't go away again, Mummy. Don't go," he pleaded, holding my face in his tiny hands.

"Never again, Exavier. Mummy will never leave you again."

I held him close as I lifted myself from my knees. Eavan and Nayantara were smiling through their tears, and we laughed. Exavier showed me around the house and through the back garden while Eavan and Nayantara set up for tea. We shared a delightful meal together and afterwards we all packed up Exavier's things together, so he could finally come home with me. As I stood on the porch with his things in a loaned carpetbag, Exavier said his goodbyes.

"Bye, Auntie Eava, bye Nayana!"

"Make sure you come to visit, soon," I added. "I left the floo address and apparition coordinates on the kitchen table. I know Exavier will want to see you, and I'd love to have some company. I'll be inviting Elsa and some others to visit soon, so I'll let you know!"

We apparated away to their tearful smiles and waves. I was grateful for the schedule Eavan had written down for me. I'd never been a mother, and being the youngest of seven I had never taken care of any babies, but now I had an outline. And I could owl-order books on wizard parenting. Exavier had been set up in his room, but he seemed quite content not to let me out of his sight. And I didn't mind. I liked having him with me. We were a twosome, now, a family, and nothing could tear us apart. After we had arrived home, I thought that all would be perfect, but it wasn't. I couldn't help but wonder how Eavan had known that I was Exavier's mother, and had known without question.

"Are you ready for your bath, Ex?" I asked.

Luckily, I had been blessed with a child that liked water, and I had my wand at the ready to clean up any excess splash water that landed on the floor. As I undressed Exavier for his bath, I found the answer to the question that had been bothering me from the moment I set foot inside Eavan's home. There, on his little chest for all to see, was a black mark, almost like a tattoo- in the exact same shape and size as my dragon pendant.

There was no mistaking our bond now.

I said nothing, but grabbed Exavier's rubber owl and put it in the bath with him, and we began what would become a ritual of soak-mummy and where-did-mummy-hide-the-owl bath time games. I washed him carefully, making sure not to miss a spot or a crevice in his soft baby skin. I was extra cautious around the dragon marking, not wanting to hurt him, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. Just like my pendant was now a part of me, his marking was a part of him, and they signified our relation as no spell could. As to how the marking had gotten there, I could certainly imagine, and I was sure that Eavan and Nayantara could tell me if I was correct. But for right now, it didn't matter.

Voldemort was gone. Exavier and I were together. The world was finally righted again.

_The End _


End file.
